


Breaks

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Reconstruction [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Disabled Character of Color, F/M, Friends to Lovers, POV Character of Color, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychology, Recovery, Therapy, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: Sam stared at her in surprise. "You were part of the op?""She instigated it," Nat said. "Called Laura, who called me and got it rolling.""I really did treat Clint after the Battle of New York. I did contract work for SHIELD before they fell, Lani told him. "It took him three sessions to talk to me, if you're interested.""Yep," Sam said. "That's about right."There was a jet waiting in the hangar, and it took two of them to get her and her chair into it. He had no idea where they were going, but didn't entirely care. "So why'd you do it?"Her brows went up and she glanced around the jet. "Certain things are just wrong. With no grey area. I believe when you come across one of those things and you have the power to fix it, you do so. Damn the consequences.""Yeah," he said, thinking how familiar that sounded. "Story of my life."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, Sam's story, yay! Bit of angst in this one. Sam's got some shit to work out. But it all works out in the end.

Sam had no idea what day it was, so he had no idea how long he’d been thinking about this. A while. 

But it was unavoidable. 

His relationship with Steve Rogers was fucked up. If he was a woman (or gay), the story would read like some sad cautionary tale of the stupid things people do for love. Which in this case was follow a man all over kingdom come looking for the person you replaced (and were, at best, a substitute for), allowing it to wreck your life and get your ass in jail, while the two of them ran off into the sunset.

It was a fucking Jerry Springer episode is what it was.

Sam’s thoughts were dark, and probably unfair. There had also been that whole angle of the other Winter Soldiers possibly destroying the world. That was the whole angle for Barton and Lang. Wanda had her own valid reasons for jumping on board. But Sam had followed Steve off the reservation—to quote the third member of Steve’s fucked up triangle—long before the world was in danger.

His thoughts might be less dark if his captors weren’t so convinced they could beat the answers to where Steve and Bucky were out of him. Telling Stark had been 50% concern for Steve and 50% sheer spite.

They knew he’d said something when the power was out, adding a nasty edge of anger to what he was going to just go ahead and call torture. It was happening to him, he wasn’t going to apply one of those bullshit labels like “enhanced interrogation”.

Now they’d broken his fingers. There went life as a concert pianist. Juliard would never take him now.

The door to his cell opened. He didn’t move. The good thing about what was going on was that he had absolutely no reason to cooperate. What were they going to do, hurt him? Not that motivational anymore.

"We have someone here to speak with you." Oh good. The Big Asshole had come himself.

"I think 'speaking' isn't really the right word, man." He didn't even open his eyes. Might as well be dead weight just to be a pain in the ass.

"We've brought in a psychotherapist. She handles special cases, and Mr. Barton was once a patient. We were hoping she might be able to coax him into providing information. No luck, so we thought she'd take a pass at you."

That got Sam to crack the eye he could see out of, just to give him an incredulous look. "You wanna tell me any more details of your clever plan?"

"Maybe if you were willing the share, I'd be inclined to as well."

"Unless you have Natasha Romanov in there—which you don't—I ain't saying shit. Can we just skip to the waterboarding?"

Ross shrugged and stepped back. "Maybe later. She came all this way, seems a shame to waste the trip."

He held the door open and a moment later a slim, Asian woman in a wheelchair rolled into view. "Sam Wilson, this is Dr. Lani Yee. Try not to offend her too badly."

Yee studied him a moment, then with the barest move of her head said, "That's enough, Secretary. Thank you."

Sam sat in the chair across from her. There were no handcuffs because they were wearing clothing that could electrify them. Someday an enhanced person was going to pop up who was made stronger by electric current, get locked up, and sink this stupid boat.

He'd probably still be there when it happened. 

"They're in Fiji," he said. "Steve decided now was a good time for a tropical vacation."

"He strikes me as the type who could use a vacation," she said easily. "Though Fiji is an extradition country, so perhaps not the most prudent choice."

"I don't have the extradition treaties memorized. I didn't expect a life of international crime."

"I generally don't spend a lot of time thinking about it either, but the reading material flying in here was limited."

Her face was completely unreadable. Pretty, but deliberately blank. "You should have brought some of it in here with you." 

Lifting a shoulder she gave a pointed glance at the security eye in the ceiling. "I suppose conversation here is limited, as well."

"I assume you just spent an hour with Clint Barton staring at you silently with his arms crossed."

A smile quirked her mouth. "He complimented my shoes around minute thirty seven."

"So how long do we have to make bullshit small talk? We both know I'm not going to tell you anything. I'm amazed anyone one thinks this would work."

"People think highly of my skills." She paused. "If it helps, the longer we bullshit, the more it will annoy Ross."

That made Sam smile, which he found hurt. Apparently this was the first time he'd tried to smile in here. "Oh, well, in that case I'll tell you my life story."

She smiled in return, clearly studying his face. "I bet it's a heck of a tale."

"Considering I'm in the RAFT? Yeah."

"It's certainly a long way from Pararescue." She glanced at the security feed again. "Colonel Rhodes's prognosis is excellent, by the way."

He sucked in a breath. That was new information. They had, at one point, tried to tell him he was dead. Why he believed this woman over them, he had no idea. Maybe he shouldn't. But he did. "Thank you."

"Stark is doing his best to down play it in the press, as is his way. But I have friends in interesting places. There were several surgeries, but he has full use of his upper extremities and there's potential for sensation return." She spoke with the confidence of someone who knew back injuries intimately. "I've never met Tony Stark, but I assume he's taking good care of him."

"Yeah. He definitely would." He paused, wondering if by talking to her, he was getting sucked into some sort of con. But she had information. "Don't know if he knows it, but he almost certainly made it worse."

She tilted her head. "Did he move him after he fell?"

Sam sighed. "I followed Rhodey down—because fuck sides, I'm the medic—and Tony blasted me with a repulser." Almost unconsciously, he touched his chest. He'd cracked a couple of ribs. "Knocked me out. When I finally got up he had Rhodey's head in his lap."

She winced, though in sympathy for him or Rhodey, he wasn't sure. Maybe both. "People don't think straight in times of crisis. Even with training. And I don't think Stark has any. Experience, maybe. But not training."

"Not really, no."

They sat in silence a moment and he was a little surprised that it didn't feel awkward or expectant. It was the first pleasant silence he'd had since he got here. He watched her watch him. She scanned the room, gaze lingering on his broken hand, then to the glass wall that faced out on the others. Then back up to the security eye.

Her face tightened a moment, and he had the distinct impression she'd come to some sort of decision. When she spoke again, her voice was different, more deliberate. "There are some men who, were they in your position, would resent Captain Rogers. Might want to see him come here."

That was an odd way to put that. Something about it made his skin prickle. "Steve inspires a lot of loyalty." 

"Even through something like this?"

"Can't say I wouldn't enjoy punching him in the face at least once." He looked down at his hands. "Well, maybe not now." 

"Are they both broken?" she asked softly.

He looked up at her, staring at her like he could dare her to blink. "Well, I don't have an x-ray machine. But I did count the cracks." He chuckled, it was humorless. "Just in case you were wondering what kind of people you're working for."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't work for Ross. I'm here as a favor."

There was a rattle out in the hall and the door was open, revealing a guard. "Ross says you're done," he told the doctor.

"It hasn't been an hour," she protested.

The guard shrugged. "He says you're done."

Her face tightened again and she looked back to Sam. "Thank you for speaking with me, Sergeant Wilson."

"I don't have any kind of rank anymore," he replied. On any number of levels. He really had taken a shotgun to his own life. He had to blame himself more than he could blame Steve.

The doctor inclined her head. "I apologize." The guard tapped his foot and she took the brake off her chair. "Perhaps I'll see you again, Mr. Wilson," she said as she rolled to the door.

He couldn't fathom a circumstance. People sure loved their polite bullshit.

*

It was only years of training that kept Lani from rolling into the control room and reading Ross the riot act. This place was like a house of horrors. Clint Barton had clearly been tortured, as had Wilson. Not to mention the poor girl in the straight jacket and shock collar. As far as she could discern they were all being held without charges. She couldn't imagine how Secretary Ross had thought she'd be all right with this.

He was waiting for her in the hanger. "That was unproductive."

She should get a medal for not punching him in the testicles. Instead, she summoned her most neutral clinician voice. "Maybe not. I think Wilson is angrier than he lets on."

He lifted a shoulder. "Doesn't surprise me. You know how those people are."

In the interest of keeping her temper, she wasn't going to pursue that comment any further. "I'll come back in a few days and take another crack at him."

"You really think you'll get something?"

She looked up at him. "Give me the full amount of time, yes. If you can manage not to kill him before I get back."

"He knows where Rogers is," Ross replied. "Where Barnes is."

Lani was pretty sure Wilson knew where Rogers and Barnes had been three days ago. That they were still there was pretty damn unlikely. She didn't think Ross would listen if she pointed that out, though. Ahab rarely listened to reason when the White Whale was concerned.

All she said was, "If he does, I think he's more likely to tell me than you."

"I'll give you one more chance," he said to her.

"That's all I ask."

The helicopter took her to New York, where she checked into a nice hotel. The flight had been long enough for her to make her decision and second guess it several times. She knew what she had to do. There was no other options. It was the rather stomach churning number of consequences that gave her pause.

Her career would be over. She might become some sort of fugitive. Still, there was no helping it. There were things that if you turned away from them, you became part of them.

It took a bit of rummaging in her notes, but she found the phone number she needed and used a burner phone she'd bought at the airport to call a little farm a thousand miles away.

It rang twice, and the voice that answered was cautious. "Hello?"

"Laura, it's Lani Yee. They let me on the RAFT to see Clint."

She inhaled sharply, and then blew it out slowly. "They didn't even tell me where he was."

"I'm not surprised." When this was over, from whatever rat hole she ended up hiding in, she was going to see Ross burn for this. "He's there, along with Sam Wilson, Wanda, and a man named Scott Lang. Rogers and Barnes escaped."

"Steve and I need to have a _conversation_."

"Do you have any way of getting in touch with him?"

"No," she said. "But. . ." There was a pause. "Can you come out here?"

"Flying might be risky. Can you meet the train?"

"I can. Take it as far as Chicago, I'll meet you there. Bigger train station is better." The Barton farm was on the eastern edge of the Ozarks, though Lani wasn't entirely sure what state it was in. She'd come in by plane before. "I'm sorry, I know that's a huge hassle for you."

"It's all right. I'm stuck in New York for a while anyway. I'll let you know when I have an arrival."

"I'll go dig the ramp out of the barn," she replied.

"Thank you." They said their goodbyes and Lani looked up train schedules. Chicago meant more than a day on the train, which sounded like the opposite of fun. But she had no car available to drive and while she didn't think she was being tailed, she wouldn't put anything past Thunderbolt Ross. They still might follow her on the train, but she was hoping the chaos of Penn Station would help her lose anyone trying to tail her discretely. 

When she'd booked a ticket she texted Laura the information, then ordered up room service and scheduled a handicap accessible car to come pick her up. She had a couple hours before she needed to get to the station and wanted to give the impression she was settling in for the night to anyone watching her. 

The upside to working with paranoid people in high levels of security and government was that they taught you a few things.

She'd booked on a slower train because it had an accessible bedroom available, which had probably been a miracle in and of itself. It cost four times as much as a seat, but it was worth it. They did at least feed her. And then she had 28 hours on a rocking train to contemplate the cliff she was about roll right off of.

Reading up on the psychological fall out of whistleblowers occupied some time. It wasn't an exact parallel to her situation, but it was close enough to be analogous. Discovery of something that is wrong but could be ignored. The choice to do the right thing despite ruining your life. She was good at finding those sort of analogies. There was no exact parallel to bend brainwashed by an alien and forced to kill your friends and plot against your own agency. But with some reading on Stockholm Syndrome, POWs, and PTSD she had been able to help Barton. This is what she did. Break down extraordinary situations into manageable ones.  
She'd never been her own patient before, of course.

Laura was waiting for her in Chicago, looking tired. She smiled when she saw Lani, though. "Hi," she said bending to hug her. "How was the ride?"

"I've had worse beds," Lani said. "And it gave me time to think."

"The drive's about six hours," she said. "Longer if we need to detour. I drove up last night. My sister is staying with the kids." Odd thing to say. Laura Barton was an only child.

Lani was pretty confident she'd never had a tail, or that if she had she'd left it in New York. But the farm had been hidden a long time and she didn't want to be the one to ruin that.

She gave Laura's hand a squeeze. "Well, I left my annoying relatives back in New York and am eager for some of your cooking. But if you have detours you need to take I can wait a bit longer."

She smiled. "Let's go see if we can wrestle your wheels into my truck, eh?"

They managed, though if the cab of the truck had been even a couple inches higher Lani might not have managed it. The chair itself folded up pretty easily and Laura got it in the back and tied down pretty easily. Then they were on their way.

"We were being recorded," Lani said one they were on the highway. "So neither of us could say anything useful. But he complimented my shoes. I don't know if that's any sort of code you two have."

That made Laura laugh, so clearly it was. "Somebody had told him to always compliment a woman's shoes. He was so nervous on our first date that those were the first words out of his mouth, despite the fact that I'd invited him to go riding and I was wearing literally mud-splattered barn boots."

Lani had to laugh as well. "I'm glad he trusted me enough to figure out a way to get you a message."

"He trusts you as much as just about anyone. And continues to be impressed with your stamina." Winning that trust had required a _lot_ of time. And a lot of patience.

"I've always been a patient person." She blew out a breath. "I need to get them out of there."

Her hands tightened on the wheel. "Nat thinks it's impossible."

Ah, that explained the sister comment. Suddenly this seemed very, very doable. "That's because she didn't have me."

"I don't know how to inoffensively ask how you're useful in a jailbreak that intimidates Natasha Romanov."

"It's a jail that sinks under water and only rises up when someone authorized visits." She looked over at Laura. "Nat is not authorized. I am."

"Well. Doesn't _that_ change the math."

Lani shrugged. "Clint has told me enough stories I believe Natasha can steal fire from the Gods if she wanted to. For all I know, they had her in mind when they designed the RAFT. I can get her in, I know the layout and where they are. I'm guessing that takes it from impossible to easy."

"She's got a line to Steve," Laura said. "She won't put me on that line—she says my temper needs to settle down—but he'll want to help."

"I'd hoped he might, after talking to Wilson. It's why I asked you."

"He had better, is all I'm saying." She took a slow breath. "Not that what Clint does is Steve's fault."

Mentally, Lani switched to on-the-clock mode. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm used to him vanishing. I've long accepted how dangerous his job is and that every time he goes out I might never see him again."

"But you'd hoped he was done," Lani filled in. "After Ultron and Sokovia."

"He promised me he was. Something he'd never done before, so I believed him."

"When Steve called for his help, did he discuss it with you before agreeing?" She was filling in information based on Laura's anger and what she knew of the situation. Clint wouldn't have sought out the fight, but would have stepped up if called.

"Yes. Clint is excellent at nudging me into a corner where he's so completely reasonable that I'm the asshole if I say no. Steve asked him to go rescue Wanda, who was locked in the Avengers compound. Totally told him he didn't have to fight. Wanda was a good cause, and I couldn't very well say no to something he already wasn't planning on doing. Even though we both knew he would."

She had talked to Clint a few times after Sokovia, and even met Wanda Maximoff at the farm during a visit. She wasn't surprise that it was her that had gotten Clint to break his retirement. "If it helps, I'd lay good money on this actually being the end of it for him."

"I should hope so. He'll be a fugitive."

There was a lot of that going around. "Maybe he'll finally fix that squeaky step."


	2. Chapter 2

Once they got out of the city, it was pretty obvious there was no tail, so they could drive straight. It still took the better part of six hours. When they arrived it was dark, and Laura parked as close to the porch as she could. A wooden ramp Clint had built when she was here treating him after the Battle of New York was in place over the steps.

Laura helped her up and into the house. "I set up the den for you to sleep," she said. "I figured you'd be here at least tonight."

"Thank you," Lani said. The farm house had a couple proper guest rooms upstairs but there was no getting her up there. Clint's den had a futon that had served her well in the past.

Natasha was in the living room, her hair dyed dark brown and shoulder length. Dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, she looked like she really could be Laura's sister. The woman was a chameleon.

"Hey Doc," she said when she saw Lani.

"Natasha. It's good to see you."

"How are they all? Laura said you saw them."

With a glance at Laura she said, "Not good. Clint, oddly, might be the best, but he has training. Wilson has clearly been tortured, his fingers were broken. Wanda is being kept in a straight jacket and shock collar. They wouldn't let me speak to her."

Nat sucked in a breath, and then whispered, "Jesus." 

"Lani thinks she can get you inside," Laura said, remarkably calmly.

"I'm supposed to go back in a few days to talk to Wilson again," Lani explained. "I think I should have some company on that trip."

She smiled. "I would love to tag along. Can't say I'll be too welcome, but I don't care."

"Laura thought you might be able to get a hold of Captain Rogers?"

"Yes," she said succinctly. "He'll come for that. We'll need the muscle."

She nodded and didn't press. "Can you get me pen and paper?" she asked Laura. "I can draw out the floor plan."

A few minutes later, a big piece of construction paper was on the dining room table and Lani was building her map. Nat paced behind her, clearly on the phone with Steve.

"No, I have an in, but it's going to have to be soon. Her window is limited and we don't want to tip Ross off with delays." She paused a moment. "I trust her as much as I trust anyone. Clint trusted her enough to tell her about Laura and the kids."

Lani was trying to remember how many doors she'd rolled past after going through the control room but took a moment to smile at that.

"He wants to know if you're sure," Nat said.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Sure I can get you in? Yes. Sure I want to do this? No, but I'm going to anyway."

"It was the second one. He's feeling guilty." She'd put the phone back to her ear, and into it she said, “Yes, you are. I can hear it in your voice."

"That's a perfectly normal reaction to what's happened," Lani called.

"There's something normal about you after all. Who'd have thought?” Lani couldn't hear the response to that, but it made Nat chuckle.

"If you're not sure-" Laura began, setting a cup of coffee next to her.

"I'm about to do something that will completely upend my life," Lani said. "I know in my heart that it's the right thing to do. But I also know that once I do it my life will not be the same again. Possibly for the worse. That isn't a decision made lightly or certainly." She sipped her coffee. "If I thought I was sure I'd be concerned I was repressing or disassociating. So I'm okay with the second thoughts."

Nat came back to sit at the table, sans phone. "Steve says we can come to Wakanda. The rest of you, at least."

Her brows went up. "You're not going?"

"I tried to electrocute their king."

"He seems in a forgiving mood. If he's give Rogers and I would assume Barnes asylum, as well as everyone else, I don't think he'd draw the line at you."

"Well, he knows Bucky didn't kill his father. I did kind of screw him over and then, as I said, electrocuted him. He'd be dead if it wasn't for the vibranium suit."

Lani didn't know Nat very well - would venture to say no one did, even Clint and Laura - and had only met the Wakandan king a handful of times. So this probably wasn't her place to push the matter. Still, she gave it one more try. "Did he say you were unwelcome?"

"We haven't exactly spoken."

Next to her, Laura gave a little sigh, which Lani was pretty sure meant she wasn't going to get anywhere with this, so she dropped it. "Well, Wakanda is lovely. There are far worse places to spend my exile."

*

There was plenty of time to think on the RAFT. None of them were given any entertainment—something he was pretty sure qualified as cruel and unusual punishment. In an actual legal sense. Not that laws applied here. There had been no trial. They didn't even have charges. 

Clint was generally silent as a tomb, but he was like that on a good day. Lang was chatty. He was clearly an extrovert and the lack of company was driving him crazy. Sam talked to him because it passed the time.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this, man," Sam said one afternoon.

"Ah, hell, don't worry about it." Scott was good at blasé, even here. "I always figured I'd end up in prison again. This was a good cause."

"At least we thought so at the time."

"Piece of advice, keep telling yourself it was. Doesn't matter what the truth is. At the time it was true."

"Not your first round on this rodeo, huh?"

"Nope." He paused and Sam could see him glance around his cell. "Folsom was a lot more warm and fuzzy, I gotta admit." The lights above them dimmed and brightened. "And the electricity worked."

Sam sat up. "We're surfacing." They did that every time the RAFT surfaced. Probably poor engineering. Stark hadn't built this.

"Maybe the pretty shrink is coming back," Scott said, stretching his legs. "And if we're really lucky, an apple with our evening gruel."

"I don't think they have fruit down here, but keep hope alive."

Five minutes later, the lights went out.

Sam got to his feet and even Scott sat up a bit, looking around. Clint stayed on his bunk, for all the world as if he were napping. Emergency lights went on in their cells and spotlighted the hall outside the glass. A couple guards went by, at a faster clip than normal.

Minutes ticked by. Sam paced, meeting Scott's gaze as he passed. Then there was a thump somewhere in the distance.

And Steve Rogers stepped out of the shadows.

Sam felt himself smile. He still kind of wanted to punch him, but he'd never been so grateful to see someone in his entire life. "What the hell took you so long?"

Steve smirked and gave a half shrug. "Had to get a ride." There was a metallic clang and he glanced to the side. "Your doors are open and your suits deactivated. Come on out, gentlemen."

Clint stepped out. "Where's Wanda?"

"Nat's getting her." He tilted his head and his face darkened. "She says she can't get her to move, come on." He turned on his heel and lead them out of the cell block, stepping over the unconscious guard in the hallway.

Sam let Scott and Clint flank him. Nobody commented, but he was pretty damn useless with his hands all fucked up.

In another cell block they found several more unconscious guards. Wanda was on her cot, staring into space, neck red and burned. Nat was crouching on one side of her and the pretty shrink in a wheelchair was in front of her, talking softly.

Clint rushed forward and knelt down, too. Sam whispered, "Jesus. What did they do to her?"

"I think she's drugged," Dr. Yee said. "Wanda," she added cajolingly and this time the girl's gaze flickered to her face. "Clint is here. He's going to carry you to the plane so we can leave. You want to get out of here, right?" Wanda nodded and Yee rolled back so Clint could scoop Wanda up in his arms. She held hers out, like a child, and he lifted her up.

"Let's go," Steve said. "Jets are probably already inbound."

They filed out of the cell, Nat having to help Dr. Yee get over the lip of the door. They must have surfaced for her return visit, and Steve and Nat seized the opportunity. She'd seemed like a nice person—clearly she'd come to help Wanda instead of hiding or putting up a fight. "Sorry they ambushed you," he commented to her.

She blinked up at him. "Ambushed? No, Nat and Steve cleared the hall before I came through."

He stared back in surprise. "You were part of the op?"

"She _instigated_ it," Nat said. "Called Laura, who called me and got it rolling."

"I really did treat Clint after the Battle of New York. I did contract work for SHIELD before they fell." There was a slight incline on the way to the hanger and Scott gamely grabbed her chair and helped her. "It took him three sessions to talk to me, if you're interested."

"Yep," Sam said. "That's about right." 

There was a jet waiting in the hangar, and it took two of them to get her and her chair into it. She ended up sitting next to him as they took off. He had no idea where they were going, but didn't entirely care. "So why'd you do it?"

Her brows went up and she glanced around the jet. "Certain things are just wrong. With no grey area. I believe when you come across one of those things and you have the power to fix it, you do so. Damn the consequences."

"Yeah," he said, thinking how familiar that sounded. "Story of my life."

"I think it will shake out all right. Wakanda is a lovely country."

"Thank you," he said after a moment. "Really. I owe you."

She reached over and cupped his forearm, giving it a little squeeze before letting go. "You're welcome. But you don't owe me a thing. I'm just glad we got you all out."

"Might be nice to have a shrink wherever we're going. I think some of us are pretty fucked up." His gaze fell on Wanda, who was laying across several seats, her head on Clint's leg.

"Yes." She glanced over as well and he saw he straighten her shoulders. "I'll have my work cut out for me, I'm sure."

"It'll probably keep you busy."

"Busy is good." There was a buzzing noise and she rummaged in the saddlebag like thing hanging from the side of her chair, pulling out a phone. "Oh, look," she said brightly. "It's Ross." She hit the button and brought it to her ear. "Thaddeus, I'm afraid I will no longer be available to consult for you."

Sam couldn't hear what was said, but Ross's voice was loud enough to echo tinnily from the speakers. Yee waited impassively until he paused for breath, then said calmly, "Good luck with the nightmares, Thaddeus."

After that she hung up, stared at the phone a moment then called, "Steve? Care to destroy this for me?"

He held up his hand and she tossed it to him. He crushed it in his hand like a soda can.

She sighed a little. "And that's that."

Clint wanted to go back to his family, insisting the farm was well hidden. Sam wasn't so sure about that, but he was an adult, and a very stubborn one at that. Yee took a pass at him and then shrugged. Steve dropped him off just over the Canadian border in the wilderness, not daring to broach US airspace. Nat went with him. Scott also thought he'd be fine—Hank Pym would look after him, he had a daughter. This time Dr. Yee _did_ talk him out of it.

It was kind of impressive, watching her lay out all the many problems with Scott's plan without making him feel stupid for suggesting it. Pointing out Wakanda's technical advancements and the possibility of contacting his daughter there to tell her he was safe seemed to cinch it. As did Steve's promise that they would be living in the palace rent-free, at least for the time being, which was pretty good for a felon.

He still had a lot of shit to deal with in his own head. But right now, his life sure looked better than it had when he woke up this morning.

*

When they landed in Wakanda it was after dark, though the landing strip outside the palace was well lit with flood lights. The gangplank opened and Lani took a deep breath of humid, tropical air, heavy with the scent of flowers and pending rain. Muscles in her back loosened. Wakanda had always been associated with peace and calm in her mind, even though she'd been working the last time she was here.

Scott Lang grabbed the back of her chair to help her down the steep ramp. T'Challa himself was waiting at the end, with his sometimes girlfriend and Lani's former patient, Monica Lynne. They were already speaking with Steve, who was helping the paramedics check out Wanda and Scott rolled her over to the group without her having to ask.

"Hello, Your Highness, Monica. Small world," she greeted them, once Wanda had let the medical staff look at her.

She was amused the Scott was far more impressed with meeting Monica Lynne than the king of Wakanda, though she supposed they had been in a battle before and so, had technically already met. He was also a King not a lot of people had heard of. She was a very popular singer _everyone_ had heard of.

Monica tried to greet him, and all he got out was, "I'm. . .wow."

"For fuck's sake, Lang," Sam said from behind Lani, making her laugh.

Scott turned and pointed. "Dude, that's Monica Lynne."

"I noticed that." Sam introduced them properly and Scott managed to get himself together enough to shake Monica's hand, which Lani assumed he would never wash again. When she reached for Sam's hand, he demurred, mentioning his broken fingers.

T'Challa encouraged him to have the medics look at it, but Sam brushed him off. When Steve tried to send him in the ambulance with Wanda there was a moment when it looked like there might be some sort of macho pissing contest, so Lani intervened.

"I'm sure Wanda would like a familiar face to stay with her." He glanced down at her and she kept her face impassive, not judging or encouraging, just stating fact. Of course Steve could go, but Steve wasn't hurt, nor had he been in the RAFT with her. Sam was the logical choice, hand or no hand.

After a moment, he nodded and made his way over to the ambulance. Steve gave her a grateful look before Monica offered to show her to her rooms. 

Years before, Monica had been kidnapped by terrorists hoping to extort vibranium as ransom. Instead they got a very messy and fatal encounter with the Black Panther, but the safe rescue didn't do anything to erase the trauma she'd already been through. The King had wanted an American therapist for her, on account of language and cultural barriers, but for her safety she couldn't leave the country. Lani had been flown in, and ended up living in Wakanda—in this very same guest palace—for a few months, until they were comfortable moving their sessions to video chat.

It had been a long time since they'd spoken and Monica was very glad to see her. Given what T'Challa had just been through, and the changes Monica was thinking of making in her life and their relationship, it seemed Lani's patient list was growing.

Monica took her to the same rooms she'd used before, that had some small modifications made to make her life easier. After fetching her some clothes and ordering up a snack Monica left to go find T'Challa and Lani was alone with her thoughts.

She was going to need to call her family. She hadn't wanted to do it until everyone was safe. But they needed to know it might be a long time before she saw them again. She could try it now, it was morning in California. Sooner would be better. But she was bone tired and hadn't slept on a real bed in several days. Her family wasn't expecting her and had no reason to be worried about her. Ross wouldn't contact them, he'd know she wasn't with them.

A good meal and a good night's sleep. Then she'd call them tomorrow. It's what she would recommend to a patient, so it was good enough advice for herself.

She slept fitfully, but woke up to a warm breeze and the smell of flowers. The technology behind the air conditioning in Wakandan buildings was beyond her, but it was really nice. Waking up here was a little like waking up in Hawaii.

For a few minutes she just lay in bed, going over her very long to-do list. She was sure breakfast was being served somewhere in the palace, but she had no appetite. It was dinner time in California. Probably best to get the family phone call over with.

It was a couple of rings before the line was picked up. It was a very strange overseas number on the Caller ID. "Hello?" her mother asked cautiously.

"Hi Mom. It's Lani."

"Hi, honey. Are you okay? Where are you calling from?"

"I'm fine. I'm in Wakanda."

"Oh! Did the king call you? I'm sure with his father dying an everything that's happened-"

"No," she cut her off. “No, Mom. He didn't call me. Actually, it's kind of a long story." 

It all came spilling out of her. Ross calling her to the RAFT, the horrible conditions there. Getting in touch with the scattered Avengers and helping break in to the most secure prison in the world.

"So, I don't think I'll be coming home any time soon."

There was a long silence, then, "Oh, Lani. I'm so sorry. And also proud of you."

She smiled and blinked back the tears that suddenly welled up. "Thank you, Mama."

"Are you allowed to have visitors?"

"I'm sure that'll be okay, but I need to talk to T'Challa and Monica about how that will work." She looked out the window. "You'd like it here, it smells like Hawaii."

"They're taking good care of you?"

"They are. It's the same room I was in all those years ago and they still have the stability bars in the bathroom and everything. And there's a lot of people here who need my help, so I won't be bored."

She could hear the smile in her mother's voice. "Well then maybe you're right where you need to be."

"I hope so." At her request, her mom took down her bank account information and promised to check and see if they'd been frozen. Then she handed the phone to her father, who got a short version of events and also told her he was proud. And very excited at the idea of visiting Wakanda. Clearly she was going to need to figure visiting out soon.

When they hung up she felt worlds better and was absolutely starving.

The guest palace had a communal dining room and a staffed kitchen. You could order something at off ours, or participate in a group meal. That meant eating with whomever was staying in the palace. Usually it had been just her, and sometimes Wakandans from far-flung cities in the capitol to meet with the King—though once she ate lunch with the entourage of a visiting Dubai Sheik. Breakfast tended to be some sort of buffet. The fruit here was amazing.

It was mid morning by the time she finished freshening up and made her way to the dining room. Her next order of business was a trip to the medical building to check on Wanda and get some personal supplies she needed. Then maybe a trip to town for clothes and toiletries. She needed to start settling in for her own sake, as well as an example for the others.

She was pleasantly surprised to see Sam and Scott eating breakfast when she arrived. Eating alone was tolerable, but she prefered company. And it was nice to see Sam out of the hospital.

He was awkwardly drinking a cup of coffee hald between his palms, because his fingers were taped up. "Morning, Doc," he said.

"Good morning, Mr. Wilson. Mr. Lang." She set her tray of food on the table and engaged the brake on her chair. "It's good to see you both up."

"I think if you break us out of jail you can be on a first name basis," Scott said. "At least with me."

She smiled. "Seems fair. You can call me Lani."

"The food here is fantastic," Scott said, apparently happy to keep up a string of chatter.

"Yes, it is. Fresh fruit all year round. If you have something specific you're craving let the chefs know, they love a challenge."

"They know how to make American food?" Sam asked.

"They do. Monica is American and enjoys a good burger now and then." Lani sipped her coffee. "When I was here before they even made me katsu and ramen."

"That's daring of them, since you look genuinely asian."

She smirked a little. "I am genuinely asian. I have a membership card and everything."

"I'm not even peripherally Mexican," Scott said. "But I am from LA, and would love a burrito."

Lani had a feeling Scott was going to be very good for this group. "I'm certain they can do that for you."

"Hey, I'm in favor of food that doesn't require utensils right now," Sam said.

Scott looked at him. "You deserve a burrito, man. You deserve it."

"I will talk to Amil and get you a burrito," Lani said solemnly. "And whatever other easy to hold food we can think of. They have a version of a gyro that's delicious."

Sam shook his head. "Too much dexterity."

"Mmm, good point." She considered how she ate various foods. "Smoothies would work. Did they say how long you're in the bandages?"

"Just until I get them fixed. They apparently have a machine that can re-knit bone. But they're so fucked up some of them need to be re-broken and set properly." He lifted a shoulder with a casualness she was sure was a facade. "They said they'd put me out for that."

"That's thoughtful of them," she said. Scott looked a little horrified at the turn of the conversation. "What about a stew or rice dish? Everything already bite size. Tape a spoon to your palm and shovel."

"Who is going to tape and un-tape me?"

His tone was a little hard to read, but he was playing along and she had the sense he was the type to deal with things through humor. "I'm sure we can find you some nice nurse."

"Well _now_ you have my attention."

She grinned and dug into her eggs and toast. "I'll vet them myself."

He grinned back at her, and this time she knew it was a genuine smile.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of days later, Sam went back to the hospital to get his hands fixed. It was, if he was honest, painful as hell. He was surprised it seemed worse than when they were broken. Maybe it was the lack of adrenaline.

Which was not to say he wasn't grateful of Wakandan medicine. If he wasn't here he could have lost some significant hand function. He'd probably remind himself of that a lot while he healing. 

When he woke up, Steve was camped out in a chair in his hospital room. He was reading a Wakandan magazine when Sam turned to look at him. "This is kinda deja vu."

Steve looked up and smiled. "Sorry I couldn't get the music right."

"You learn to read Wakandan?"

"I've got a few words. They say immersion is the best method."

Sam nodded, and looked back at the ceiling. It was a nicely painted mural. The hospital was beautifully decorated and homey, very different from the sort of hospitals they had back home. "What happened to Sharon?" he asked Steve.

He sighed a little. "I don't know. Nat said she never went back to work. Made a couple educated guesses as to where she'd go." There was a rustle as he shifted in his chair. "She's a spy who blew her cover. She went into hiding, I guess."

"And you're cool with that?"

There was silence before he answered. "Doesn't seem right. Leaving her in the wind."

"I tend to agree with that assessment. Leave no man behind." Even though he _had_. It was a bitter thought. A thought Sam didn't want.

"I've thought about going after her," Steve admitted. "I wanted to get you guys here and settled first. And, well, I'd need to find her."

"Maybe the King can help you with that."

"Yeah." He was quiet again. "I'm sorry, Sam. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything but-"

"I didn't do nothin' I didn't sign up for," he replied, cutting him off.

"I know you didn't sign up for he RAFT. Or what happened there."

He inhaled slowly. That was certainly true. "I knew we were breaking the law. And you didn't know how they'd react."

"Well, I'm still sorry." He cleared his throat. "Doctors seem to think your hands will be right as rain soon."

"So they tell me." He looked over at Steve. "They wanted to know where you were."

Steve closed his eyes and tilted his head a moment. He had to have suspected it. The confirmation seemed to hit him like a blow. "Sam, I'm-"

"Sorry," he said. "I know." He did know. It just didn't seem to help.

A heavy, uncomfortable silence lay between them. Steve finally coughed a little. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

He sighed. "If I think of anything, I'll tell you."

With a little nod, Steve folded up his magazine and stood. "All right. I'll leave you to rest then."

"You should go find her."

"Sharon?" He seemed to realize it was a stupid question as soon as it was out of his mouth. "Starting to think I've fucked up her life enough as it is."

"Wakanda's probably a lot nicer than a lifetime as a fugitive. Don't punk out on this because you feel guilty."

That got a ghost of a smile. "I'll ask T'Challa to look for her."

"Good," he said. He was tired, and a little nauseous, so he leaned back again and closed his eyes.

The next time he woke up, Lani Yee was poking her head in the doorway. When she saw his eyes open she made a little surprised noise. "Huh. She is good."

"Wanda?"

"Yes. She suggested I stop by on my way out. I said you'd almost certainly be asleep but she insisted you'd wake up soon." She rolled a little further into the doorway. "If you'd prefer to sleep, I can leave you to it."

He smiled. "You rescued my ass from jail, I can make chit-chat."

"I don't know that I want to blow jail-rescue points on idle chatter," she said, rolling further into the room. "I hear the hand surgery went well."

"So they tell me. It hurts, and it itches. Weird sensation. Reminds me a little of having the chicken pox."

"Nerves are funny things." She parked next to the bed, where he could see her easily. "You remember the chicken pox?"

"I got it late. I was twelve."

"Ouch. I was four. I only remember enjoying a couple days off of day care and thinking the pink lotion was awesome."

"I spent most of it laying on my Nana's couch."

"That could be awesome or terribly, depending on what kind of Nana you had."

"She took good care of me. My mom had to work."

She nodded. "My grandmas were in a different state so we went to day care and various after school stuff."

"Mine's all packed in the same 30 or 40 miles. Everybody's up in everybody else's business." He sighed. "Suppose I'll never see them again."

"Not necessarily true. I spoke to the king about my family visiting at some point. He has been wanting to open his borders more and that means visitors. He might even send him own plane. In the interest of impressing a grandma or two."

"Flights to Africa aren't exactly in their budget, I can tell you that."

"The king can be very generous," she offered. "And when he's not, his fiancee most certainly is."

"Mmm, yeah. I've heard she's good people."

"She told me she intends to stay here for a while. I'm guessing she'll enjoy having some fellow Americans around. If Scott can get over his case of he stupids when he's around her."

Sam chuckled. "You should have seen when he met Steve. He actually felt up his biceps in awe."

"In his defense, the only reason I don't do that as a regular greeting is because I can't reach."

"You're good company, you know that?"

She smiled and lifted a shoulder. "I know how boring a hospital bed gets. And I do sort of have conversations for a living."

"Is this just a friendly conversation or an assessment?"

"This is a friendly conversation." She didn't sound the least bit defensive, still smiling. "Assessments happen in my office and I take notes."

That was probably going to be a good idea at some point. He just didn't feel like thinking about it now. He was on too many painkillers. "Did I ever thank you?"

"You did, actually. When we were on the plane." She patted his arm. "You're still welcome."

"Sorry," he said. "I'm kinda doped up."

"It's okay," she said with a smile and gave his arm a little squeeze before letting him go. "I'll let you rest. And plan a nice, two-handed feast for when you get out."

His eyelids felt heavy. More meds had probably dosed. "That sounds like a plan."

"Sleep well, Sam," she said softly. It was the last thing he heard as he drifted off.

*

Lani had been joking with Sam about doing assessments in her office. While she was certainly open to taking on clients, she hadn't done anything to make that official. However, in the span of a week she sat down with Steve to sort out his feelings about his friend going into cryo and his desire to seek out the woman who had helped him. Scott ended up unloading all his worries about his daughter growing up without him and how he'd deal with never seeing her again. She had daily chats with Wanda about all manner of things. And even Monica came knocking to talk about her engagement and what to do about her career.

"I'm starting to think I might need a proper office," she commented once she and Monica had shaken out the worst of her concerns.

"I will absolutely find you an office," she said immediately. Then she paused. "Well. I will ask Bahati to find you an office." Bahati was T'Challa's assistant.

"Thank you. The little club is keeping me quite busy."

"Everybody's really been through the wringer, haven't they?"

"In big ways and small," Lani confirmed. "It's going to take a long time to come to terms with what happened."

Monica tilted her head. "What about you?"

"I've had some very productive conversations with myself," she said with a grin.

"And that works for you?"

"To a degree. Psychologists and other therapists usually find methods for dealing with their own issues and the secondary stress of working with others. Most of the time it's as simple as having a therapist of your own, but that's not an option here. But I journal and meditate. I've kept in contact with my family, which has solved a problem many of the others have."

"Loneliness?"

"Partially. And a feeling of being cut off from their old life. Wakanda is probably best case scenario for exile, but it's still an adjustment."

She nodded. "I am not in exile and I still feel that."

"Change of this magnitude is never easy, even when it's for the better. We are creatures of habit and resent that being disrupted."

"I guess everyone takes their own time returning to equilibrium."

"Exactly. And everything is still new." Lani didn't think Steve would really settle until he knew where everyone he felt responsible for was. Wanda would find her peace in fits and starts. The others it was harder to tell. Sam clearly had a lot simmering under the surface, but attending his physical injuries had taken precedent.  
Which reminded her. "Care to walk to the dining room with me? I promised Sam Wilson I would join him for his first bandage free meal."

Monica hopped up. "I am, in fact, hungry."

She held the door for Lani to roll out of her room. "I will say, I think I'm going to gain weight living here again."

"I always do. At least the American press won't report on yours."

"That's true. But it's not like I can take up running to offset it."

She laughed and gestured at herself. "Is there anything about me that indicates that _I_ am likely to take up running?" She was smiling so it didn't worry Lani, but Monica's insecurities about her weight and appearance had been one of the things that surfaced often during her therapy. The size-2 entertainment industry was rough on a woman who couldn't zip a 12 on her best day. Lani was not at all a fan of women rating themselves based on other people's opinion of their beauty, but she'd once made an exception for Monica. It was worth reminding her she'd attracted herself an actual prince, and one who looked like he'd been carved out of obsidian by Michelangelo to boot.

"Perhaps you'll find other ways to get some aerobic exercise," she said with a sidelong glance, making Monica laugh again. "It's good to see you so happy."

"I feel at peace. This is where my life has been heading for a long time. It's nice to finally be settled."

"That's a very nice way to look at it. The destination of a long journey. And a new chapter in your life."

"Though I am intimidated by that whole 'Royal Wedding' angle. Kings do not elope."

"I'm guessing you're going to have a lot of help with the planning, at least." They reached the dining hall and Monica waited for her to roll in first. "And hey, you'll have an in-house, on call shrink to help you out."

"Very necessary. Very, very necessary."

Sam and Wanda were at one end of the long dining table and Lani made her way over to them, Monica trailing behind. "Officially two handed again?" she asked when she reached them.

He flexed his fingers. "As far as I can tell." He looked over at Monica. "Your man has some good people."

"I will pass along your appreciation," she said with a grin.

"The doctors were all very kind," Wanda agreed. "Though I'm glad to be here now."

"You're looking much better," Lani commented. Wanda had been dehydrated as well as drugged up and burned from the shock collar. The medical staff had kept her several days to make sure she was fully recovered.

"I'm starting to feel more like myself. At least, as much as I can."

"It could be you just have to redefine who that is," Lani told her.

Wanda smiled. "Probably true for all of us."

"It can be a good thing. Major life upheaval or not." She clapped her hands together. "Have you eaten yet? I'm starving."

"They're bringing a buffet out soon," Sam said.

"Excellent."

Sure enough, a few minutes of idle chatter later and the kitchen doors opened to allow servers with heaping trays of food come through. They managed to wait until the line had been filled - which took a couple trips - before descending upon it.

"Is this weird for you?" Sam asked her when everyone sat down again with their plates.

"Weird? How so?"

"Socializing with your patients."

"Ah." She smoothed a napkin over her lap. "A bit. Not everyone here is my patient. And I tend to have friendly relationships with my patients anyway. In a situation like this it would be very lonely to try to keep a professional distance."

"Does it make people harder to treat?"

She considered he question a moment. "I don't think so. It helps that most of the problems people are discussing aren't really related to me, if that makes sense. I can still maintain objectivity. I'm sure most people have had a friend that they went to for advice. I figure I'm just that, in a more official capacity."

"Makes sense," he replied. "Though usually that conversation with a friend is a two way exchange."

"Depends on the friend," Monica commented. "I definitely dominated a conversation or three with Tamara when we were younger."

"Some friendships do have that dynamic. One half does more of the taking." There was a faint edge to his voice Lani found interesting.

"I like to think we evened out with age," Monica said. If she'd noticed the edge then she'd chosen to ignore it.

"Everything is different when you're younger," Lani said, digging into her salad. "Everything is bigger and more important."

"Sometimes things are still actually big and important, even if you are young," Wanda said.

"Most young people don't live the life you have, but I see your point."

"You don't exactly look old yourself," Sam commented to Lani.

She grinned. "I'm Asian. We reach a certain age and stop. Like turtles."

Monica pointed at her. "Black folks do that, too." She looked over at Wanda. "You're not only white, but you sound slavic. You're probably fucked."

"I'm younger than all of you by a decade. Somehow, I'll manage."

*

Sam got the final sign off from the doctors about the recovery of his hands. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with himself now—it hadn't been discussed beyond some vague things Steve had said about working with the Wakandan military.

He didn't wonder very long, though. When he got back to his rooms after his final medical appointment, Bahati, the King's assistant, was waiting for him. 

"Mr. Wilson."

"Good morning," he said, opening the door. "You're looming rather ominously." Bahati wasn't nearly as intimidating as the Dora Milaje, but he was still pretty sure she could kick his ass. At the very least it would be a matched fight. "What can I do for you?"

"His Highness would like to speak with you." That didn't do anything for the ominousness, though she was smiling. When she gestured and began walking, he followed.

She took him to T'Challa's office, an interesting blend of welcoming and dominance. There were multiple comfortable chairs for guests, even a small couch, as well as a mini bar and snacks. But the desk was a huge block of some sort of black stone - obsidian, for all Sam knew - and the view out the floor to ceiling windows was of the jungle and a snarling panther statue. So, get comfy, but don't forget who's in charge.

T'Challa gave him a smile when they entered, nodding thanks to Bahati before she left. Then he gestured to the sitting area. "Please, have a seat. Would you care for a drink?"

"I hear your liquor makes Steve tipsy."

The smile ticked into a grin. "I was thinking coffee or water. Monica requires I keep soda available at all times. But if you prefer liquor it can be arranged."

"I would be honored to drink whatever is in Monica Lynne's pop supply."

T'Challa puttered at the wet bar a moment, then brought him an old fashioned soda glass full of ice and fizzing liquid. He offered Sam a seat again, sinking into one of the chairs himself as encouragement.

"I'm told your hands are fully healed," he said, once Sam was settled.

He flexed them. "As far as I can tell."

"I'm glad to hear it." The craziest thing was, Sam believed he was. "I have a proposition for you to consider."

"Considering you've given me a place to live while being a fugitive, I am all ears."

"I know your wings were confiscated by your government. The design plans are, of course, top secret. But we have ample footage of you using them and very determined engineers. I was hoping you might be interested in giving your input. And, if we can get a viable product, running a regiment of flying warriors."

He tilted his head. "I'm not any kind of engineer, but I'm happy to help. Learning curve on flying that thing is a bitch, though."

T'Challa chuckled a little. "My people are very sturdy and often reckless. Just the rumor of the new regiment has my security chief and general inundated with requests and applications. When we get to that point, I would ask you to help cull the list. Or we won't have anyone left on the ground."

"You really want me to run a platoon of Falcons?" It felt like there might be an actual grin on his face.

"I do. It will be entirely your project, though we'll support you as you need. We'll even call them Falcons, if you wish." He gestured at the window behind him. "We do like our animal imagery."

"Sounds like a hell of a lot of fun. The US never expanded it beyond my original team. There were plans to—but as I said there's a learning curve, and it really takes a pretty high skill level. My partner died and I mustered out and that was pretty much it. But it sounds like your warriors are probably pretty exceptional."

He inclined his head. "We are. I have told Captain Rogers this, but asked he not share it with others. But the vibranium that is in our soil and so much of our technology has a . . . positive benefit on the health and fitness of our citizens. It is why I could keep up with Rogers and Barnes. And I believe it will help anyone who joins the Falcon Program to succeed."

"I figured there had to be something, watching you fight. Outrun cars. Etc."

"Training improves it, hones it like a blade. But even the most sedentary Wakandan could give an Olympic runner a hell of a race. We keep it a secret, for reasons that should be obvious to you. The same reasons we hoard the vibranium."

"So my vague feeling that Bahati could snap me like a twig is not all that crazy?"

He laughed. "Not at all. Though, if it makes you feel better, that woman has the patience of an oak tree. I'm not sure she's capable of anger."

"It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for."

"That's an excellent point." He braced both hands on the arms of his chair. "I can take you down to the engineering lab and introduce you, if you like. Then perhaps we can discuss a formal application process. I imagine there is some training to be done before the wings are strapped on."

"You train them to fight like you?" He couldn't help the smile, remembering sitting in the back seat of a squad car and his mouth getting ahead of his brain. "Like cats?"

"More or less. I'm the only one with the outfit, though."

"The wings require more agility and core strength than militaries usually focus on, but you fight like a guy who could do crazy olympic gymnastics routines, which you kinda need." He pointed at T'Challa. "Wakanda should totally compete in the olympics. Would do the US some good to eat more dust."

"It's on our list, now that the borders are opening. We don't _think_ the vibranium will show up on testing, but need to be sure."

"You plan on telling the world what it does?" He shrugged. "If they don't know, they wouldn't even think to look for it."

That seemed to give him pause. He considered a moment. "We are used to being cautious," he said finally. "But you make a good point."

When a king considered your input, it was a good day. "So lets get started on your fleet of Falcons."

Grinning widely, T'Challa stood and offered him a hand, helping him to his feet and holding his hand an extra moment, as if sealing the deal. Then he gestured grandly to the door and they were on their way to the engineering building.


	4. Chapter 4

The Falcon project kept Sam busy pretty quickly. It was incredibly nice to _be_ busy. To have something to pay attention to. He spent so much time on it they eventually dug him up some office space, which turned out to share a wall with the space Lani had set up in. They both had people coming and going all day.

Sometimes, when she had the doors to her balcony opened, he could hear murmurs or music drifting over on the breeze. Her choices were eclectic. Sometimes classical, sometimes Hawaiian. Once it sounded like opera and another time old school hip hop. He wondered if she changed it depending on which client she had, or if she was just that varied in her tastes.

A couple weeks into the program, he was starting to go through the pile of applications that were flooding in, when there was a light tap on the door. "Come in," he called.

The door opened silently and Lani wheeled herself in. "Hello, stranger."

"Hey," he said. "You know, you should talk to the engineers about a better chair. You should see that they're doing with the wings."

"I admit, I get a lot of mystified looks. I don't think they're used to paraplegics here."

"The tech in my wings would make Stark jealous. Maybe they'll make you a hover chair."

She smiled. "That sounds like fun." She gestured at the pile of paperwork. "Applications?"

"Yes. I am assembling my minions." He really felt rather proud of that.

"It's good to have purpose, isn't it?" It was said with an air of camaraderie, not like a shrink nudging a patient.

"It is. I was feeling aimless. I don't think being alone to ruminate too much is a good idea."

"There is something to be said for having routine, and having external reasons to get out of bed. Deadlines, meetings." She paused. "Have you heard from Captain Rogers?"

Steve had left last week to go track down Sharon Carter wherever she was hiding and bring her back to join their Island of Misfit Toys. "Nope."

He could see her studying him. Then she gave a little nod. "Do you need any help with the applications?"

He eyed her. "Did you come to poke me about my friendship with Steve?"

Without a hint of offense she replied, "I came to be neighborly."

"Then yes." He gestured at his files. "A professional opinion on these people would be very useful."

She rolled closer, parking on the other side of his desk. "What qualities are you looking for in a candidate?" she asked, picking up a folder.

Sam sighed. He'd been asking himself the same question in seven hundred different ways. "That's my problem. I don't know."

Flipping through the folder, she asked, "How many people were in your original group?"

"The Falcon program? Only Riley and I ever flew. He was my wingman. They canned it after he was shot down. We were chosen by the brass. The Pararescues themselves are selected Darwin-style. Like 80% don't make it through training."

"But the king isn't looking for pararescue but soldiers, yes?" He nodded. "Was Riley similar in temperament to you?"

"An overly empathetic adrenaline junkie with a self-destructive sense of loyalty? Pretty much." He wondered how many years it would have to be before he could talk about Riley without it aching just a little.

"I'm not entirely sure how to quantify that," she said with a head tilt and a gentle smile. "But maybe it's a place to start."

"I guess I could just start interviewing people and see what shakes out."

"Sometimes that's best for something that can't be quantified. You know it when you see it, and all that." She placed the folder she'd flipped through back where it had been sitting. "In that case, maybe you just flip through and pick out favorites or anyone that throws up red flags."

"I wonder if I should check if Wakanda has any hiring laws like back in the states."

She pointed at him. "That is a very good idea."

He couldn't help but grin. "You're a very useful neighbor, you know that?"

"I aim for useful," she told him.

"Can I call you to come get a read on my interviewees?"

"If you want, I'd be happy to. I'll admit, my clients are not a full time job and I get restless when bored."

"You're welcome to come over here and distract me any time." Once the words were out of his mouth, he realized how much they sounded like flirting. 

She grinned, and he couldn't tell if it was reciprocation or humor at the unintended entendre. "Well, I will keep that in mind."

*

Lani had never given much thought to what it would be like to live in a palace. She'd never been a princess girl. Oh, she'd liked the Disney films well enough, but never to the point of obsession. Her mother claimed she had a practical streak since birth, and most of her imaginative play had been school or doctor's office or occasionally some rather involved soap opera with her Care Bears and Strawberry Shortcake dolls.

Truth be told, palace life was a little boring. She was sure T'Challa was busy, as were the many assistants that aided him. Monica was always doing something. And even the king's mother and sister had certain stately duties to perform. Lani had a job - technically - but her only patients were those who had defected from the Avengers. Scott enjoyed a chat now and then, but since getting in touch with his daughter had mostly accepted his lot in life. Wanda came in almost daily, but Lani sensed the hardest times were passing and now they were just working on maintenance and general coping mechanisms. Steve Rogers was on his rescue mission and Sam Wilson - while always up for a friendly chat - was not interested in therapy. So Lani was left with large gaps in her day with nothing to do.

She'd never been very good at filling time.

One afternoon, the phone in her desk drawer rang. They all had phones with US numbers, so family members and whomever else could call without long distance charges in an emergency. Not a lot of people had Lani's so she immediately assumed it was an emergency. The area code looked familiar, but it wasn't California. 

Scooping it up she answered with, "Lani Yee."

"Hello. It's Laura. I'm in a gas station phone booth. They still have those in bumfuck Arkansas."

Lani blinked. "That might be the most surprising thing I've heard today. Why are you at a gas station in Arkansas?"

"I have a tail. I tried to shake them and they followed me to Arkansas. I called Clint, we're bugging out. They found us." She sounded scared but not panicked, and angrier than she wanted to let into her voice.

"I'm sorry," Lani said sincerely. "Do you think - do you want me to see if T'Challa can send a plane?"

"You think he would? Clint says he can get us to Canada. I guess I'm. . . dragging three kids through a panicked undercover run through the Wisconsin. Or we can hide in caves in the mountains. Or wait for Special Forces to kick in the doors. None of those options are traumatic, right?" It was a rhetorical question, and the anger unmasked. It was probably more useful than panic.

"T'Challa opened Wakanda to anyone on Steve's team who needed refuge. Sounds like you're on that list." She was going to focus on getting them safe. They could deal with anger and trauma after that was done.

There was a moment of silence, then very quietly she said, "Talk me out of just going and getting my children. I'm not a fugitive. Yet."

Lani took her own moment to pause. "I'm not in the business of talking people into or out of anything," she said slowly. "But in this sort of situation I suggest weighing all that you lose against what you think you'll gain. And remind you that some decisions can always be made, but can't really be un-made."

"I won't get my life back, will I? No matter what I do."

"No. Either way, the life you had is over. Right now you need to decide which new life you want to roll the dice on."

She inhaled slowly, and blew it out. "Yeah. Okay. Let me know if you can get us transport out of Canada. I'll be in touch."

"I'll go talk to T'Challa right now."

"Thanks," she said, and the line went dead.

Lani let out a breath and hung up. After taking a moment to center herself she rolled to the door and down the hall to track down the king. 

Bahati sent her up to the royal family's private rooms where he was in the middle of lunch with Monica and his mother. 

"I apologize for interrupting," she said when she was let into the room.  
T'Challa was already getting to his feet. "Not at all, I can tell by your face something is wrong."

"There is. Laura Barton just called me - Clint's wife - she said the government has been tailing her and their family is bugging out. Clint thinks he can get them to Canada, but I wanted to see if your offer of amnesty was still open."

"Of course it is. I can send a plane to get them in Canada."

"I can get them in the United States," Monica said. "I still travel back and forth enough it won't looks fishy."

T'Challa turned. "I don't want you mixed up in this."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Doesn't he have very small children?"

"His youngest is a toddler," Lani offered. "Nathaniel."

"I want to help them," Monica said firmly.

T'Challa frowned and looked at her a moment, clearly on the verge of arguing. Lani wondered if she should try to referee or just let this play out. The king's mother was pointedly eating her lunch and not getting involved.

Then T'Challa said, "I do believe you were scheduled to attend a conference of some sort in the midwest this week. Or was it visiting your family?"

"You know how much I miss my mother," Monica replied with a grin that was clearly an inside joke. She turned and looked at Lani. "Deer Creek, Minnesota. Let us know when they'll be there."

"I'll pass it on," she said. "Laura said she'd call back soon."

Lani was worried when she didn't get a call the next day. Then she woke up in the middle of the night to someone pounding on her door.

"What?" she called, fumbling for the bed stand lamp.

"Lani? It's Sam. Sorry to wake you. Clint stole a plane and they're coming in hot."

Oh for Christ's sake. "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

By the time she got out to the Palace's private tarmac, the King and the rest of the fugitive Avengers had come out to wait for the Bartons. Even Wanda, who didn't like being disturbed at night. Sam came over to stand by her. "Their tail turned at the border. I think T'Challa's disappointed he didn't get to fire any of his new guns."

"I think he's looking for an opportunity to make a statement," she commented. "Though I suppose letting them in at all makes one pretty loudly."

"Politics is one big mind game."

"There's a certain psychology to it. Not a particularly _healthy_ one, mind you. . ."

"If you ask me, I think he's preparing for a war."

That might be over stating it, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility. "I'd say better prepared than not."

Lights appeared in the the distance and got closer as the plane—which looked like a Gulfstream—came closer to the ground and the end of the runway. "He stole a nice plane."

"Clint has excellent taste." She lifted a hand to protect her eyes from the glare. "And doesn't do anything halfway."

The plane came to a stop, and then the door opened, extending down into a flight of stairs. Clint appeared in the doorway, clearly surprised by the crowd. "Hi, all."

"Is anyone hurt?" T'Challa asked without preamble.

"Amazingly not." He turned behind him to pick up Lila and headed down the steps. Cooper and then Laura and Nate followed. They all looked exhausted.

"We have a suite set up for you all," Monica said. "T and I will show you. Are you hungry? We can have food brought up."

Lani was beginning to think her presence was superfluous. No one looked in the mood for a therapy session. But it had probably done the family good to see the turnout. Wanda ran forward and hugged everyone. Then Laura made a detour over to Lani. "Hi. Thank you."

"I don't know that I did much," Lani admitted. "But I'm very happy to see you."

"I think we're going to need somebody steady in our lives."

"Steady I am very good at. I have an office in the palace, you're all welcome to visit any time."

"For now I think we just need sleep."

"Sleep cures a surprising amount of things," Lani assured her. After a brief hug, Laura went to join the others as they followed Monica and T'Challa into the palace.

"That was anticlimactic," Sam said.

“Yes, it was." She was still pumping adrenaline, though. "Not sure I'll be able to get back to sleep. Do you want to get some coffee?"

That made him smile. "Coffee sounds great."

It was still early enough the kitchen staff wasn't working yet. There was a single-shot coffee maker and some day-old pastries available, however. Lani thought they were getting used to the odd hours some of the people kept.

She fixed them both drinks while Sam hunted down some sugar and cream and they settled at a table near the windows to get as much light as possible.

"They looked totally miserable," Sam commented, dumping sugar into his coffee. "This entire affair is just one clusterfuck after another. Unless you're Steve, of course."

Lani sipped her coffee. "You feel like he's coming out the better for this whole mess?"

"You know what he's doing right now?"

Steve had been very polite and friendly, but hadn't confided in her before going off on his mission. She knew the gist of it, though. "He went to go find Agent Carter? She helped you guys in Vienna?"

"Yeah, he found her. They're taking a protracted road trip/beach vacation along the west African coast. They've got shit to sort out. Which I totally understand. But. . ." he shrugged, trailing off.

"Burns a little he's having a vacation while we're siting around?" she offered.

"It probably shouldn't. This place is like a resort." He gestured at the ceiling. "And I am really enjoying my work. I got to test the first wing prototype the other day. Vibranium is amazing shit."

She had to smile. He sounded a bit like a little boy with a new toy. "I have to admit, just between us, the coffee here is better than Hawaii."

He did his best to look aghast. "Your ancestors are rolling in their graves."

"I know, right? Truly, I can never go home."

"Do you miss it? Home?"

With a sigh, she nodded. "Hawaii isn't technically home but. . . yeah, I miss my old life. I thought I knew what I was doing, what I was giving up. But I suppose it's not really something you can prepare for."

He met her eyes, and quietly said, "It's really not. I thought I knew what I was doing, too."

After a moment of perfect understanding, she said with a wry smile, "You never see the truck that hits you. As I know from experience."

"And training never truly prepares you for certain things. No matter how hard they try."

"In my experience training is useful for immediate responses. Start CPR, put out a fire, that sort of thing. You can't train for long-term changes. There's too many variables."

"Probably why countries so good at war suck at dealing with their vets."

"Almost exactly, I would think."

He looked out the window at the sky lightening over the jungle. "So what do you do then? When the training runs out?" 

Lani thought a moment, looking into her half full coffee cup. "The best you can, I suppose. Unfortunately, life doesn't really have a road map. For the good times or the bad."

"Sometimes the road has a mountain on one side and a cliff on the other. So your options are pretty limited."

"I suppose you could always start climbing. To torture the metaphor a bit."

He chuckled a little. "At least you didn't tell me to jump."

She smiled. "No. No jumping." She sipped her coffee. "It helps to have company on the road," she added.

He looked back at her. "Seems kinda like that's what we're doing."

"Oh, you saw through my clever insinuation."

"For a minute I was afraid you were going to tell me to go make better friends with Scott Lang."

She laughed brightly. "I think more friendships are better than less. But I wouldn't force one upon you."

"You're good company. I think I'd rather talk to you than just about anyone here."

This was a good opportunity to gently press him into coming to see her professionally. But she found herself hesitant to do so. She enjoyed getting coffee with him. It would be inappropriate to do that with him if she was treating him as well.

It was cowardly, but she decided not to pursue those feelings and just smiled, "I'd say the feeling is mutual."

He grinned at her, the smile warming her. She sensed he was someone who used to smile more than he did now. "Good."

*

Sam had his candidate roster down to a reasonable number, and was preparing to make final selections so training could begin. He was also learning Wakandan, which was. . .hard.

The knock on his door got his attention, and he glanced up to see the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. Sam swallowed a sigh and summoned a polite smile. "If you'd like to apply for the program, you have to make the request through your commander. Showing up in my office doesn't earn you points for initiative."

"Nah, I'm afraid of heights." The American accent surprised him. He'd just assumed because the man was Black that he was Wakandan. Before he could ask, the guy came forward and held out a hand. "Jay Wright. The King and I were college roommates. He keeps telling me there's this dude that reminds him of me, so I had to come and say hi." He paused. "Did you really ask him if he liked cats?"

"I see a lot of weird, but that outfit deserved comment."

Jay grinned widely. "It's good. He needs people who see through the bullshit."

"He's been pretty good to me, so I guess it works." He gestured at the office.

"Well, he compared you to me, the highest compliment possible, so clearly he likes you."

Sam both liked this guy, and understood T'Challa's comparison. And Lani had been encouraging him to make more friends. "I was just going to go grab some lunch, you eat yet?"

"I have not. Have you tried any of the restaurants in the capital? There's a pub-type place I like. Great beer."

"Every time I go out people find me try to hand me resumes. Haven't braved a restaurant yet."

"It won't be as bad off palace grounds. And I'll help you fend them off." He inclined his head. "Come on, my treat."

They requested a vehicle from the palace motor pool and waited for it to be brought around. The guy at the desk apparently spoke enough English to look up at Sam and ask, "When is your sidekick coming back?"

"Uh. Sidekick?"

"The tall man with the pale hair." He gestured with his hand, indicating someone several inches taller than himself.

He meant _Steve_. Sam threw back his head and laughed. That was the best thing he'd ever heard. Of course this guy would think that. Sam was setting up a prestigious special forces squad at the behest of the King, and to your average Wakandan, Steve just looked like a random white dude who hung around with him. "Soon, from what I hear," was what Sam managed to reply.

The guy looked a little concerned at Sam's mental state, but nodded and wished them both a good day as they went out to the car.

"Captain America as my sidekick just made my day. Maybe I'll get him a little hat with the wings on it."

"I will personally see those put into production," Jay said, getting behind the wheel. "Maybe you could get him a little jacket, too."

Lunch was fun, and felt surprisingly normal. Nobody mobbed them. Jay was married to Monica's best friend/manager and he'd left his law practice to travel with her entourage, and now live in Wakanda. He had a lot of pictures of his kids. Talking to someone from back home who was _not_ in the Avenger orbit was refreshing. When Sam got back to his office, Lani's door was open and he stuck his head in. "Hey."

She smiled when she saw him. "Hello. You look in a good mood."

"I left the palace grounds and had lunch in the city."

Her brows went up, but she looked delighted. "How was it? I haven't ventured out much."

"Fantastic. And you really should, the city is gorgeous. I really ought to find some time to do the tourist thing."

"I know it's just. . . not very handicap friendly. They don't really have wheelchairs here."

"We should seriously talk to some of the engineers about having a chair made with the thing that powers my wings." 

"Monica said the same thing," she admitted, shaking her head. "It just feels strange to go ask them to make me something special."

"Then I'll ask. We'll call you an honorary Falcon."

She laughed a little at that, looking oddly shy. "I suppose I can't say no to that."

He grinned. "Good. And then we'll go get some dinner in the city, eh?"

It might have been his imagination, but he thought her cheeks flushed a little. "That sounds like fun."


	5. Chapter 5

He was in a good mood the rest of the day, including when Steve called him to say he and Sharon were in Nairobi and needed a pick up. He made arrangements with the King, and then looked into getting Lani a better chair. 

He started with the guy he'd been working on the wings with, who had a little of Tony's manic intelligence with less of the paradoxical ego and self-esteem issues. Kadir seemed to think it was well past time she got a better chair.

"Puttering around on wheels," he muttered, flipping through a notebook. "I have some sketches, but didn't want to presume. . ." He turned the book to show him a picture of a little hovering platform with a belt.

It amused Sam he'd already been working on this. "I had no idea you were that fond of her."

He lifted a shoulder. "It's a problem we don't have. I like solving problems. Especially if more outsiders come, we'll need solutions."

"In this case I think having her legs dangling like that is probably going to make her uncomfortable. It needs a footrest."

"Hmm." Kadir studied it a moment. "Good point. I'll work on it. Bring her around in a few days."

"Don't get too mad scientist on her now."

He seemed to take a moment to parse the phrase, then grinned. "No lasers?"

"You'll have to ask her about that."

"I'll leave the option open."

When Steve came in that night, he and Sharon went straight to bed, which didn't surprise him. He figured they'd hole up in their room, and was kind of surprised to run into Sharon at breakfast. But they had a nice conversation, reminding him why he signed up for this circus in the first place. Even the Bartons seems in much better moods when they showed up.

He really ought to go talk to Steve.

It wasn't an easy conversation to start, of course. Maybe he'd start small, with the Falcon program. Steve would be happy for him and it was something Sam was proud of, that was all his. It could be a nice conversation.

He went for a walk to sort his thoughts and found himself strolling past the palace pool. Well one of them, there appeared to be several. Stretched out on one of the lounge chairs was his favorite psychiatrist, in a distractingly small bathing suit.

He really shouldn't stare, but he stopped and did so anyway. In retrospect, he probably should have made the effort to duck behind a bush or something because it only took her a minute to call out, "Are you the reason I got an email from the engineering department about hoverchair cupholders?"

"All I asked for was a footrest," he called back.

She tipped her big, movie-star sunglasses down to peer at him. "Well, thank you. I'm told I'll have a prototype to take for a spin by Monday."

He walked closer to her. "I had no idea Kadir worked that fast."

"According to him, he's enjoying the novelty. And roped in a couple other engineers."

That pleased him inordinately. "Good. You deserve an awesome chair."

"I'll admit I'm looking forward to trying it out." She resettled her glasses. "And enjoying my day off."

"I apologize, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Not at all, I enjoy company. But you look like you were lost in thought."

"Thinking about. . . stuff." That was lame. But the whole thing was complicated and he didn't want to discuss it. She'd probably tell him he should come for a real appointment. It wasn't a conversation he wanted to have while she was in a little bikini.

He could feel her watching him, but to his relief, she didn't push. "I've always liked that, despite how busy it can be, there's a lot of quiet places here to think. About stuff."

Sam sat on the end of one of the chairs next to her. "It's complicated," he said with a sigh. Because she just made him want to tell her things. "Steve is back."

"Mmm. And some things you were able to ignore when he was gone are coming to the surface?"

"I don't know. Maybe I don't want to drag up the past. Maybe I should just go forward."

"I usually recommend clearing the air," she said. "Things left unsaid tend to pop out at inconvenient times."

His eyes drifted over her almost involuntarily. "Yeah."

If she noticed, she didn't mention it. Or her sunglasses hid the reaction. "You could try having some pleasant, non-confrontational conversations with him first," she suggested. "And see how you feel."

"Yeah, I wanted to tell him about my flock."

She grinned. "You know, the collective noun for falcons is 'cast?'"

"That is fantastic."

"I thought you'd enjoy that, though I was hoping it would be something sillier. A group of panthers, for example, is a pantheon."

"Isn't that also like a group of gods? I should tell T'Challa about that one."

"I'm sure he'll be delighted."

He blew out a breath. "Anyway. I'll figure something out. Have you met Sharon, yet?"

"I have not, no. They've been keeping to themselves so far." Lani tilted her head. "Do you like her?"

"She helped us out at great risk to herself. Seems like my kind of person."

"That does seem to be the common thread around here."

"Yeah, you'd get along."

She laughed a little. "I'll make a point of tracking her down. Maybe I'll get a new client out of it."

"Or a friend. To repeat your own advice."

"The two aren't always mutually exclusive. Monica was a patient and now is a friend. So was Laura, though I imagine that line will start to blur again soon." She shrugged. "I need to find a way to compartmentalize or I'm going to be very lonely here."

"We all need people."

"Everything is easier with company."

Particularly _certain_ company. But he didn't think he ought to say that. Somehow it seemed to hang between them nonetheless.

After a moment she cleared her throat and shifted. "I should probably head in before I sunburn. Could you lend me an arm as I move over to my chair?"

"You want me to pick you up or you just want to use me as a brace?" 

The sunglasses covered half her face, but what expression he could see was kind of hilarious. For a moment he suspected her flush had nothing to do with the heat. "Brace," she said after a pause.

That was probably for the best and he knew it. So he held out his arms to help her. It took some arranging, but she did it all efficiently and smoothly. He imagined it was all second nature to her. Where to put her legs, how close to bring the chair. When she was resettled, she tugged on a pair of gloves and pointed herself towards the palace. "When does you Falcon training begin?"

"Sometime in the next couple of weeks. We're just working out some bureaucratic details."

"I look forward to seeing you soaring past my window."

"I'll come show the wings off."

She looked up at him and smiled a little differently than she had been. "I definitely look forward to that."

*

Lani was a big believer in taking her own advice. But there were times when the problem was big enough she didn't know that she was the most objective person. Regrettably, there was no other therapist for her to go talk to. So she did the next best thing and sought out a friend.

Monica was spending more and more time in Wakanda, despite still ostensibly touring. Her assistant let Lani right into Monica's private quarters, even without an appointment.

She was sitting at her piano, a glossy black Concert Grand. She turned and stopped playing when Lani came in. "Hello."

"Hi. I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?"

"I am never too busy for you, come on in."

She rolled further into the room, parking where Monica could see her without contorting. "I have a bit of a conundrum," she admitted. "I need some advice."

" _You_ are coming to _me_ for advice? It's like opposite day."

Lani grinned. "Unfortunately, I don't speak enough Wakandan to take advantage of the excellent mental health care here."

"Tamara says I give terrible advice, but I'm willing to try."

"Thank you. It's a bit ethical and a bit. . . personal." Monica was watching her with interest. Lani sighed and plunged ahead. "I'm attracted to Sam Wilson. We've developed a bit of a flirtation. However, I'm well aware he probably needs my professional help more than anyone except, perhaps, Wanda. If I act on my attraction, it would cut him off from the professional help."

"Circumstances here are kind of unique, you can't really wall yourself off. . .though I suppose there's some logic in drawing the line at sex."

"I engage socially with Wanda and the others, despite seeing them in my office. I just compartmentalize and no one has mentioned being uncomfortable with it. But, as you said, the intimacy you have with a lover is a different level. I couldn't be objective. And there are good odds he would have things about the relationship he'd need to talk through. Which he couldn't do if his girlfriend is his therapist."

"Maybe that's why he hasn't come see you."

"You think the ethical dilemma might be mutual?"

"Am I remembering his bio wrong that he used to work in the field?"

Lani shook her head. "You are not. He was a pararescue. As in the field as you can possibly be."

"They train those guys to keep their own counsel, don't they? God knows T'Challa does."

"They do," she conceded. "Not that it's exactly healthy. He also ran some veteran support groups back in the States, before getting mixed up with Steve. I like to think they gave him enough introspection to know if he needs to reach out."

"You think he's likely to do that if he's going to spend the session picturing you naked?"

She could feel her cheeks warming. "Probably not. Though I assume I've had clients who were attracted to me before."

"You want any of them back?"

"Ah, no." Men she was actually interested in tended to be few and far between. She was well aware dating her wasn't simple or easy and usually it was easier not to open herself up to hurt. Sam had slipped her defenses.

"I might be a terrible person to ask. I spent my entire adult life in love with someone I thought it was impossible to make it work with. We'd push apart and the universe would pull us back together again. We fought it for way too long."

And now she and the king were fairy-tale happy. Planning a wedding and talking about babies. Lani knew they both, in their own ways, regretted the years they'd lost, despite it having worked out. They were a good lesson in not waiting. "So you think I should jump him, so to speak?"

"I kinda do. Our little ex-pat community here is _very_ small. You can't cordon yourself emotionally from it. You deserve a life."

"Of course, that does bring up the increased risk of awkwardness if things don't work out. But I think I'll make the decision not to worry about that." She smiled, feeling both nervous and relieved. "It's been a very long time since I was . . . with anyone."

"Well then you have to make sure he's worth it," she said with a grin.

Her gut told her he was, and it had rarely let her down before. "Thank you for listening," she told Monica. 

"You're welcome." She hesitated, then said, "I was thinking of having a little party."

Lani smiled. "Any particular occasion?"

"Not really. I just thought the small contingent of American/English-speaking women ought to get to hang out. Maybe shop. It's good to have girlfriends."

"I think it's a fantastic thing. Everyone could use a little normal socialization."

"And Tamara needs more people to talk to."

Monica's friend and manager, Tamara was funny, gregarious and an extrovert. Lani imagined being in a country where she could only speak fluently to a handful of people was maddening for her. "You can count me in on any parties you wish to throw."

"Good, you always know how to handle people."

"It's practically my job description."

"I'll send an email in a couple of days." She grinned. "Go get yourself a story to share over drinks."

Lani was still blushing a little as she rolled back to her office. Of course, having made the decision, she wasn't entirely sure _how_ to start a relationship with Sam. Straight to the point made the most sense. But lacked a bit of romance.

She supposed she could wait for him to make some sort of move. Though something told her that wasn't very happening anytime soon.

In any event, she didn't see him for a couple of days. Wanda was having trouble sleeping with all the new people in the palace so they had some extra sessions. She also hoped Sam was spending some time with Steve. They needed to find some sort of equilibrium together, even if they couldn't get into the heavy stuff.

Maybe she should float the idea of couples therapy.

Sam was waiting for her at the engineering building on Monday when she went to look at her hover chair prototype. It was silly how happy she was to see him.

"I have to tell you," he said as they walked in. "I think Kadir is more excited about this than he was about my wings."

She laughed. "People like novelty. For someone from a culture with no physical handicaps I imagine a wheelchair is very novel."

"They've got a doctor floating around here somewhere—not Wakandan, he's white but I don't know where from—who's deaf, and they made him what is effectively a translator for sign language."

"The medical advances here are remarkable." From what she'd managed to pick up from various conversations, had she been Wakandan and living in Wakanda, she likely would have ended up with little more than a limp from her accident. Between the physical enhancements from the vibranium in the environment to the near-science-fiction levels of medical care, injuries such as hers were rare and very treatable. "I'm hoping with T'Challa opening their borders more of the world will be able to use them."

"I hope so, too. I also hope the world isn't so desperate for vibranium it scares him into locking them down again."

Protecting the vibranium was T'Challa's number one concern. For all his good intentions, he would absolutely go to war over it. "I trust the king to know how to play them properly."

"Anyway. Politics is not my jam. Come see your chair."

Kadir did indeed have a bit of a kid-at-Christmas vibe while showing her the little hovering seat. Or, perhaps more accurately, kid-at-a-science fair. It was very lightweight and streamlined, lined with some sort of padding that would mold to her body. Everything on it was adjustable, from foot rest to arm rests to back angle.

"You can recline it completely," Kadir said. "For any emergency naps."

Lani laughed. "I admit, I'm so used to my chair I'm a little nervous. It looks so fragile."

"It's made out of vibranium," he said. Because everything in Wakanda seemed to be. It was probably overkill - she didn't intend to take it into battle - but it explained how it could be so spindly.

"Well, I suppose I should try it out." He showed her how to lower the arm rest and, using Sam as a convenient brace, moved herself over to it.

It was remarkably comfortable. The back shifted and resettled, cupping her back like a memory foam pillow. It hovered a little higher than her regular chair, putting her closer to what her height would have been had she been standing. And it was barely wider than her body, meaning tight hallways and narrow doorways would no longer be an issue.

"I know you said it was a prototype, but can I keep it?"

Kadir and Sam both grinned. Sam added, "I told him you'd say that."

"Yes," Kadir clarified. "A long test would be very useful, actually. Would you like to try moving and see how that feels?"

It had no wheels, she noticed, and a distinct lack of controls.

"How would I do that?" she asked after a moment of double checking she wasn't missing something.

"You lean gently. You move your body in the direction you intend to go, and you go there. The foam senses the motion. There is a switch right under the arm." He bent to show her. "That toggles it from motion mode to chair mode. So you don't crash into your desk reaching for a pen."

She bit down on any comments about old Segways and did as he said, shifting forward slightly. The chair cruised forward a little faster that she'd expected, making her squeak and jerk back just before she rammed into Sam. He'd braced himself for the crash, but he laughed. "Careful."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" But she was laughing, too. She modified her movements a little and was able to back up and turn at a more reasonable speed. "Bit of a learning curve."

"Good, though? You like it?"

"I love it," she told him sincerely.

He grinned. "Then it would have been worth getting banged in the shins."

That grin warmed her all the way down the toes she couldn't feel.

After a few more minutes of practicing moving, Kadir sent them on their way. Lani cruised silently at Sam's side, still marveling at not having to push wheels or steer. "I am never giving this back."

"Good, it was made for you."

She looked up at him. "Now. I recall you saying something about a night in the city?"

"I believe there was a discussion of dinner, yes."

"I would be very interested in this."

"How's tomorrow?"

"It's a date," she said, with enough weight in her voice she hoped he took her seriously.

Sam stopped walking and looked at her intently. "Is it now?"

No point in backing down now. "I would like it to be."

He grinned. "Well then I'll pick you up at 8. Wear something nice."

"I'll be waiting.”


	6. Chapter 6

Picking Lani up was more of a euphemism than anything else. Sam lived six doors down from her. But he arranged for a car to be waiting downstairs before he went and knocked on her door. There was a brief pause before she opened it, during which he tried hard not to fidget. Then it swung open to reveal Lani, hovering in her new chair. She was in a Wakandan style dress that hung past the footrest of the chair. Her hair was up in a stylishly messy bun and she had a flower tucked over one ear.

She floated up almost eye level, and he grinned. "You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," she said, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I'd been waiting for an excuse to wear this."

"Hows the chair?" he asked her as they went down the hallway. It was trippy seeing her just float silently off the ground, a little like a ghost.

"I have no complaints, now that I've gotten the hang of getting in and out of it. I didn't realize how cumbersome my old chair was until I had this one. Just being able to hang out at people's eye level is amazing."

"Hell, I think we might be able to go dancing."

She smiled widely. "I absolutely want to do that."

"You know if you wore like a ballgown you could put the bottom part of the chair under the skirt and just glide around, people wouldn't notice."

"Well, now I have a valid reason for wanting a ball gown."

The car was waiting out front, and he was impressed with how compactly the chair folded up—though his new wings folded much smaller than the original ones, so he shouldn't be surprised. "I asked Bahati for a restaurant recommendation, and she made the reservation for me. Said it would get us a better table."

Lani laughed a little. "Well, what's the point of being friends with the king if you don't abuse it on occasion?"

"She keeps telling me I need my own assistant. Which is just weird."

"She probably has a point. You're only going to get busier."

He shrugged. "I really don't need someone to answer my phone for me." He pulled through the massive palace gates and out onto the road. "Though I admit I could use a translator. Wakandan is proving, uh, difficult."

"It's not just answering phones, you know. You'll have meetings with other government and military officials. Appointments with your men. If you're already having problems with the language, you're really not going to be able to negotiate personnel issues in it."

"Fair enough," he said. "I'll think about it." He glanced at her. "It's just weird is all."

"Being someone who needs an assistant?"

"Well. . . yeah." It sounded a little ridiculous when you said it out loud, but he felt it anyway.

She was smiling, though. "Your promotion was rather abrupt, huh?"

"Not long ago I was a sidekick in a jail cell." 

"You know, when something bad happens to people, everyone exclaims how sudden it was, how it came out of nowhere. They lament on the fickleness of fate and how quickly life can change. But no one ever says that about good things. Which just as often happen just as quickly."

"Most of them think good things means God blessed them. Because clearly he cares about some accountant's promotion, but can't be assed to do something about genocide."

"I would like to think he'd have better things to do, yes."

"But so you're saying this—" He gestured around and the general Wakanda "—is just the random chaos of the universe?"

"Well, clearly you don't want me to tell you it's God's will." She grinned when he glanced at her. "I have had very bad days," she told him. "And I have had good ones. I think sometimes we don't trust the good ones, or worry they'll disappear too quickly. A few months ago you were in a jail cell, now you're getting favors from the king and need an assistant. Neither of those things feel normal to you, but one of them makes your life easier. Embrace it."

"I feel. . . like if I give in to the good ones, the next bad one will hit twice as hard. The trip from Avenger to jail cell wasn't all that slow either."

"Living forever in fear of the next bad day means all you ever have are bad days."

"That's depressing." They were in the city now. Wakanda, for all its utopia-ness, had terrible drivers. Maybe it was the enhanced strength.

Lani waited for him to negotiate a particularly thorny intersection. "It doesn't have to be. I try to live my life hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. It lets me enjoy the good without getting blindsided."

"Maybe I don't compartmentalize as well as other people."

"It's a skill. It can be learned, but some things are innate."

He pulled up in front of the restaurant, which thankfully had a valet. They did stare at Lani and her chair, which he expected they'd never seen. He glared at them, just so they knew they were being rude.

She pretended not to notice. Or maybe it happened so much it wasn't worth noting. Either way, she took his hand as they headed inside. The restaurant had steps she never would have gotten up in her old chair. "I see what you mean."

"The architecture is lovely," she said diplomatically. "When I first came out to help Monica they had to do a lot of scrambling to set up the palace for my use. It was a glimpse into a world before the ADA."

"So you just came and. . . lived here?"

"For a few months, yes. Monica had been kidnapped by terrorists looking for vibranium. It wasn't considered safe for her to leave, but she needed someone to talk to. They tracked me down and I was more than willing to help."

The waiter seated them at what Sam judged to be the best table in the house. "A single client and a free vacation in paradise? Yeah, I can see the appeal."

Lani parked her chair across from him and pressed a button under the arm to keep it still. "It's not that unusual. I dealt with a lot of high profile people, it wasn't the first time I had to go on site for privacy reasons."

"Do you miss it? Your old life?"

"A little," she conceded. "But there are pros and cons to everything. I'm getting used to this life."

"I figured tonight we could have a little bit of. . . normal."

"Normal would be great," she agreed with a grin.

He flipped through the menu, which was of course entirely in Wakandan. He was working on the spoken language, but the alphabet made Chinese look simple. "So I was thinking of just asking for two of the special, if you feel brave."

"I have yet to have bad food here, so I'm up for it if you are."

He was proud of the fact that he managed to order it in—probably bad—Wakandan. The waiter understood him, anyway.

"Has anyone shown you the phonics videos?" Lani asked after the server had left.

"There are phonics videos?"

"Yes, they use them in school to help the kids read. I watched a few and it really helps get the basics down." She made a face. "The songs do get stuck in your head, though."

The face was adorable. "I will check those out."

"Do not blame me for the earworms."

"If they're bad I'm going to serenade you with them."

She laughed. "You _wouldn't_."

He tapped the table. "I promise you. And I'm a terrible singer."

The laughter got harder. "Even worse."

The food was delicious when it arrived, and they kept up a steady stream of conversation—none of it about work—all the way through dinner and dessert. It was of the nicest meals he'd had in a long, long time.

Lani sipped her coffee as the meal wound down. "So," she said finally. "Dancing?"

"You _are_ feeling adventurous tonight."

"If we're aiming for normal, then let's go whole hog."

The two of them and their combined mediocre Wakandan managed to obtain a recommendation of somewhere to go. He didn't want to bother Bahati, though she'd certainly have helped. She'd heckle him to get an assistant. They walked rather than get the car, since it wasn't far. "I feel like there might be a logistics discussion about dancing."

"Afraid I'll hover into your knees?"

He chuckled. "Maybe? I've never danced with a person in a hover chair before."

"I can actually straighten it out so I'm more or less standing. I can't balance too well, but if you hang on it should work. More or less."

Sam grinned. "Okay, that I can work with." It occurred to him that if this went anywhere, there were probably other logistical conversations they were going to have to have. But no need to get ahead of himself.

When they got there, the club was already loud and crowded. They got drinks and found somewhere to sit to watch the dancing and get a feel for the music. When something slow came on, Sam put his drink down and held out a hand. Lani grinned and fiddled with something on the chair's arm. The footrest lowered and the seat flattened out, keeping just enough of an arch to keep her steady. She reached out for him and he tucked one arm around her waist to help her.

He laughed. "Hey, this is actually working."

"It is." She looked delighted. "Though if we're making this a habit maybe I'll request a seat belt."

"Get a five point harness, you could do barrel rolls."

"You're a bad influence, Sam Wilson."

"I can't believe you didn't know that about me." He had both arms around her, between her body and the back of the chair.

"Oh, I knew." She grinned and stroke her fingers along the back of his neck. "Part of why I like you so much.”

That was. . . distracting. She was leaning more of her weight on him than the chair now, using it mostly has a brace. And she smelled _really_ good. “I like you because you considered it for a minute.”

"I took the wheel chair on a skate ramp once. Wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped.”

He twirled her in a circle. “As a fellow adrenaline junkie, I admire the attempt.”

"What did you do for thrills before someone strapped a pair of wings to your back?”

“Parachuted into warzones.” 

"I was thinking more childhood antics, but that's a good one, too.”

He tangled his hand in her hair. “I was always the first kid to the top of the jungle gym.”

Her eyes fluttered shut a moment. "Did you then jump off?”

“Yeah. Why the hell not?” Right then seemed like the perfect moment to kiss her, so he did. She sighed, melting a little in his arms. She cupped the back of his head, kissing him back eagerly. The song ended, causing him to lift his head and murmur, “You wanna get out of here?”

"I'd love to."

He helped her to the edge of the dance floor and she reconfigured her chair until it was secure again. Then she took his hand as they headed back out onto the street. They walked back to the restaurant where the car was parked. “Coffee? Home?”

"I think I'd like to head home.”

When the car came around, instead of using him has a brace to transfer herself, she reached up her arms for him to lift her. It was act of trust, a boundary voluntarily surrendered. He kissed her again when he set her down, just because he could.

She smiled brilliantly at him as he got her settled in her seat. "Thank you.”

He stashed the chair in the back, and then pulled out into traffic. They held hands the entire drive back to the palace.

*

Lani was nervous.

It had been a long time since she'd been on a proper date, with a guy she really liked. Dating in a wheelchair was a headache, between guys who were more attracted to the disability than her and the ones who saw her as a broken flower to be protected. Toss in the random racists looking for an "exotic" girlfriend and staying home with erotica and a vibrator was just easier.

Sam wasn't like those guys. He was funny and charming, with layers she could spend the rest of her life pulling back. It was oddly intoxicating finding a guy like that.

They now were making their way back up to the floor of the palace they lived on. She had time to contemplate if that—the messy, interconnected nature of their relationship—made this a bad idea. If she were her client, she'd probably think it was a bad idea. But she was also a big believer in taking a leap sometimes. And this seemed like a worthy risk.

At her door, they paused and Sam looked down at her. She hovered up so she could kiss him again. He held her face in his hands, taking his time this time. He was a phenomenal kisser, if she did say so herself. Thoughtful and intuitive, tender and passionate. Had her toes moved, they would have curled.

She honestly had no idea how long they stood there kissing in the hallway like teenagers before he finally lifted his head. “I had a great time.”

"So did I," she said softly. "Very normal.”

“Can we do it again?”

"I'd like that very much. Especially if it's soon.”

He grinned. “As soon as you’d like.”

She toyed with the idea of inviting him in. But rushing probably wouldn't do them any favors. So she moved a bit closer to the door. "Goodnight, Sam. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“Anytime,” he said, taking a step back. “I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.”

"I'll save you a spot at breakfast.”

He grinned at her again, and then strolled down the hall.

Lani let out a long, slow breath, then let herself into her room, literally floating on air. 

She slept great that night, and woke up in just as good a mood. When she got out of the bath in the morning, she found a text waiting for her. _Didn’t want to loiter in the hall like a creeper. Breakfast?_

She grinned to herself. _Be down in a few, just getting dressed._

When she got down there, he was at the same table they’d been sitting at in the middle of the night after the Bartons came in, and he waved to her. She waved back and fetched her food off the buffet line before joining him. "Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied. “What are you up to today?”

"I'm meeting with someone in the afternoon, but my morning is completely open.”

“I was going to do a test and demo of the final wings today, I thought you might want to see.”

She smiled widely. "I would _love_ to see it.”

“Good. Come by the labs at ten.”

"I'll be there with bells on.”

When she arrived at the lab, she didn’t see Sam—though she did see Steve Rogers, something she thought boded well. Before she could say anything, Kadir came running over to her. “Good morning. How are your tests of the chair going?”

"Wonderful," she assured him. "I was even able to go into town last night and had no problems at all. Though I may want to talk to you about a seat belt or harness so I can use the standing feature.”

“I will get right on that.” He gave her another smile and dashed off into one of the side rooms. Steve came wandering over.

“Good morning, Dr. Yee.”

"Captain Rogers, you can call me Lani when I'm off the clock.”

He grinned. “Only if you also call me Steve.”

"It's a deal." She gestured to the lab equipment. "Here to watch the test flight?”

“Sam told me T’Challa gave him vibranium wings and a whole platoon. Of course I had to come see.”

"There's an entertaining debate on what to call them as a group.”

He looked down at her. “I believe a group of falcons are called a cast.”

"I did know that. Sam's been calling them his flock.”

Steve smiled, and was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “How is he?”

She got the distinct impression he wasn't just asking as a friend. "He's processing, still. The Falcon program has given him a focus, a way to feel useful, which has been healing. But what happened is still raw.”

“Is he talking to you?”

"Not professionally.”

He gave her an odd look. “Unprofessionally?”

Stone face, Yee. "We've begun seeing each other. Romantically."

She was relieved and pleased that he smiled. "Huh. Good for you."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "It's very new."

"Well. . . I'm glad he has someone to talk to. He's not too interested in talking to me, though I can't say I blame him."

This was probably dangerous territory for her to tread. All she could offer was, "When he's ready to talk, he will."

He didn't get a chance to reply, because Kadir and Sam came out of the doorway Kadir had disappeared through. He grinned and waved when he saw her. The wings were all folded and contained, so it looked like he was just wearing some sort of metal backpack.

She waved back. "I'm ready to be wowed," she called.

"I've always thought the wings were really cool," Steve commented.

"Working with him on narrowing down recruits had led me to appreciate how much skill is involved," Lani said.

"Wait until you see it live," he replied.

On the other side of the lab, Kadir stepped back and Sam hit whatever button opened the wings. They unfurled like they were organic, looking far more delicate than she knew they had to be. He looked like the modern incarnation of an archangel.

She found herself having to focus on keeping a neutral face to hide her reaction, given she was sitting next to Steve Rogers. She had found Sam attractive before. This was just . . . some sort of romance novel come to life. Watching him fidget and flex the wings in preparation for taking off was foreplay all on its own.

Unable to resist, she lifted a hand, put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. He turned and grinned at her, then waved at them. "Come over here."

She was almost certainly blushing. But she flicked the movement switch on the chair and hovered over. 

"So? How do they look?"

Definitely blushing. "Fantastic."

Clearly he could see it, and he was _enjoying_ himself. "Come out on the terrace, I'm going to see how they fly."

"By jumping off?" she teased, following him out onto the terrance.

"More or less," he replied, and then did pretty much exactly that, putting one boot on the railing and just. . . leaping. The propulsion system fired and up he went. He soared up into the sky, arcing in a big circle over the lab roof and back. Shooting up higher, he became little more than a dark shape against the stark blue.

It really was something to actually see a person fly.

He did a few loops, before wrapping the wings around himself and coming down at the speed of a bullet. Just over their heads he opened the wings again and went back up. When he returned, this time he landed gently on his feet.

The three of them applauded and Lani whistled again. Sam was grinning larger than she'd ever seen before.

Kadir stepped forward to check out the wings. "How did it feel?"

Sam didn't take his eyes off her. "Fantastic."

The scientist chose to either ignore or was oblivious to the tension simmering. "Come on, slip out of them so I can run a diagnostic and see how we're doing."

Sam took it off, glancing over at Steve while he did so. "Pretty good stuff, eh?"

"Looks better than anything you had before."

"It is." He looked back at Lani. "There are all sorts of upsides here."

Steve was clearly picking up on the vibe and grinning like a proud papa. "I'm glad you're finding a place here."

"Surprised the hell out of me," Sam replied.

"Well," Steve said. "Good show. Can wait to see your team outfitted. I, uh, told Sharon I'd meet her for lunch, so I should probably run."

It was 10:15. Of all the many things Steve Rogers was, subtle wasn't on the list.

"It was nice talking to you, Steve," Lani told him before Sam could tease him.

"You too," he replied, waving a little to both of them before making his way out. 

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and watched him go. "I honestly can't tell whether he's going for his own booty call or awkwardly encouraging us to go have one."

"Why can't it be both?"

He turned back to her. "Really now?"

She inclined her head. "Wasn't an invitation, just an observation. Any booty is going to require a rather unsexy logistical discussion."

"Yeah, I figured about that part. Though I don't care if involves schematics and a flowchart. All discussions that end in sex are, de facto, sexy."

"How convenient, I actually have a flow chart." He arched a brow and she couldn't hold back a giggle.

He laughed. "Is it color coded?"

"Of course. And footnoted."

"I absolutely cannot wait."

She was totally going to need to make a flow chart now. "Me neither."

"When Kadir signs off on the wings, I can take you up with me." He pointed at the sky.

"I would find that even hotter than watching you."

There was something scorching in the way he looked at her. "I'll make up for the flowchart."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that."


	7. Chapter 7

Possibly for the first time since meeting Steve and helping him take down a government agency, Sam felt normal. His days were spent training his flock, a group of the top twenty applicants, twelve men and eight women. Once they were proficient, they'd be put in charge of smaller groups, until they had a full regiment. It was hard work, but rewarding and fun. He'd picked a good group, with a compatible blend of personalities. Three of them were already standing out from the pack, and Sam was starting to mentally think of them as his First Sergeants, though Wakanda didn't really do ranks the way the US military did.

His evenings were full of paperwork, dinners with the gang, and dates with Lani Yee.

He'd thought it was just the initial infatuation, but as time went on, they never seemed to run out of conversation. She was as funny and insightful as she'd been on their first time out. He told her about his team and she helped him brain storm when he had problems. She couldn't talk about her work as much, of course, but she did occasionally have a good bit of non-confidential gossip. The royal wedding planning was in full swing and while Monica had probably dozens of helpers she was coming to Lani for advice, especially when her mother started getting involved. Monica's mother sounded like a trip.

“I suppose royalty doesn’t get to elope, does it?” They were eating lunch on the balcony off her office. No matter how busy they were, he always went over for lunch.

"Doesn't seem to be an option, no. Though it crossed my mind. In any other situation I might suggest it.”

“We all have our crosses to bear, I suppose.”

"Monica is taking it with good grace, at least." She chased a beet around her salad plate. "Do you have any interest in the ballet?”

He squinted at her. “Watching or participating?”

"Watching," she said with a grin. "Apparently, the king is a fan and as part of his opening borders he's invited the French ballet to come perform. Monica said I could use the box on one of the nights they weren't going.”

He’d agree to almost anything to get her to smile like that. “Will you wear a pretty dress?”

"I will wear a very pretty dress," she promised. 

“Then I will watch a fancy French ballet with you from the Royal Box.”

"Thank you." She gave up on the beet and reached for her tea. "Maybe you'll pick up some moves.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They finished and he gathered up the plates to take down to the kitchen for her. "I'll let you know what day after I talk to Monica," she told him, escorting him to the door.

He leaned over to kiss her. “Sounds like fun.”

"And maybe afterwards I can show you my flow chart," she said quietly.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’d have shown more enthusiasm about the ballet if you’d led with that.”

With a grin, she tugged lightly on the hem of his shirt. "Leading with my flow chart, what do you take me for?”

“A woman with awesome charts.”

"Well I like to think so." She stretched up and he bent again to kiss her. "I'll talk to you soon," she promised.

He whistled as he walked back to his office. When he got there he found Sharon Carter sitting in one of his chairs. He really hoped this wasn’t going to ruing his good mood. “Hello, Sharon. What can I do for you?”

“I found the Hydra doctor I hope can help Bucky.”

Sam didn’t know why she’d come to tell him this. He and Bucky weren’t exactly bros. “Okay.”

“I’m going to need to go get her. In the US.”

He sank into his chair. “That doesn’t sound dangerous at all. Steve freaking out?”

"Of course he is. He wants to send someone from Wakandan IA. I tracked her to Maine, which is the whitest state in the nation. Not to mention the fact it seems rude to tie up any more of their resources than I already have." She sighed. "He'd not attempting to forbid me from going, because he's not an idiot. But I get the feeling he's going to be on edge the whole time I'm gone.”

He tipped his head back. “He wants to help Barnes, but he doesn’t want you to be in danger. Right now they’re mutually exclusive, so he’s turning himself in circles.”

"Yeah, that's the vibe I'm getting. And I know you're not his keeper and that you've got other stuff going on." She paused and he got the sense she was trying to decide if she should mention the tension that still sort of shimmered between them. Clearly she decided not to. "Just. . . while I'm gone, if he starts trying to do something stupid could you, I don't know, tattle on him to T'Challa or something?"

That made Sam chuckle. “I can handle him without any tattling, I promise.”

She smiled. "Thanks. Hey, on the bright side, if she can wake Bucky up, we'll have someone else to watch him.”

Sam looked at her for a moment. “How’s he doing?”

"Steve?" She paused, considering her answer. "Feeling at loose ends, I think.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I’d do without my flock. And Steve is even less used to being useless than I am.”

"It doesn't help that the rest of us are finding things to do. I'm working with IA, you have your team. Wanda's been volunteering at a day care. Hell, even Scott's finding stuff to do.”

“And he can’t? Find something to do?”

"I think the problem is figuring out _what_ to do. He works with the warriors and seems to like it but. . . I don't know. I get the feeling maybe being a soldier is wearing on him. But that's all he's ever been. Before the war he was a messenger and delivery boy." Sam was pretty sure that hadn't made it into the history books. "But he went from the war to the ice to the Avengers. He doesn't really have any other skills. He started drawing when we were coming here, so I tried to suggest he do that. Take commissions, try to put together a show. But he insists T'Challa said we had to be useful if we were going to stay here and that 'doodling.'" She finger quoted. "Didn't count.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I should talk to him.”

Sharon made a face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dump this on you. But maybe you are the best person to give him. . . civilian lessons.”

“Last time I had to do that I kinda pawned him off on you,” he said with a smile.

She laughed. "Well, I'm happy to continue distracting him after my business trip.”

“But I should talk to him,” Sam said quietly.

"I think it would help," she admitted.

“There’s a lot of stuff I’ve been really good at avoiding talking about. But that can’t go on forever, can it?”

"That sounds more like a Lani question than me," she pointed out. "But in my experience, ignoring things generally leads to infections or explosions.”

It probably would have been wise for him to maintain a professional relationship with Lani, so she could help him sort his shit out. But that ship had long ago sailed—and he couldn't particularly make himself regret it, no matter how inconvenient it made stuff like this. "Yeah, I know."

Sharon got to her feet. "I'm leaving in a couple days and hopefully won't be gone a week."

"How long should we give it before we come after you?"

Her brows went up a little, as if that hadn't occurred to her. Or hadn't thought it would occur to him. "I'm guessing the IA will hear pretty fast if I get snatched. I'll be checking in, but if it goes 48 hours with no word I'm probably in trouble."

Sam nodded, and since she was still watching him he said, "Of _course_ he'd go after you. He loves you and also feels very guilty about fucking up your life."

She sighed the sigh of someone only just learning the stress of being in Steve's circle. "At least talk him into taking someone with him? He's a _terrible_ spy."

He sighed, too. "I'll go with him. Also of course. And he'll let me because I'm nowhere near as high on his priority list." That sounded harsher than he intended, but it was also true.

"Sam," she said softly.

He tipped his head back. "Sorry, that wasn't fair. I knew what I was getting into." He looked at her. "You should go get the doctor. If Barnes doesn't get fixed then all of this was kind of for nothing, wasn't it?"

"Kinda feels like it, yeah," she admitted. He and Sharon should probably talk more, too. She was new to the Steve wrangling and God knew he had pointers.

"Good luck," he said to her. "And be careful. I don't think he'd handle it too well if you got dead."

"I'm always careful," she told him, with a little salute. Then she gave him a nod and left.

He rubbed the back of his neck. That had, in fact, ruined his good mood. Possibly his day. He leaned over and hit the button on his desk to activate the comms system. "Put me through to Bahati, please."

There was a brief pause, then, "What can I do for you, Sam?"

"I think I'm going to take you up on that whole assistant thing."

"Oh thank Bast." It was muttered, he probably wasn't supposed to hear that. "Do you want me to send you over some candidates?"

"I have about had it with interviews. I trust you, just pick someone."

"You'll have someone tomorrow."

He smiled. "You are a wonderful human being."

"I do try."

When his new assistant arrived, he'd ask them what the hell Wakandas wore to the ballet.

*

Saturday night found Lani seated in the royal box at the Wakandan theater, watching a production of Gisele. Sam had picked her up dressed in traditional Wakandan clothes, black tunic and slacks with grey detail work. It fit him. . . very well and she'd strongly considered skipping the ballet all together. Currently he was sitting next to her, watching the performance, either legitimately interested or doing a very good job at pretending to be.

Reaching over, the curled a hand over his knee, shifting her chair close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. He put his hand over hers. "You're not trying to bust out the flow charts _now_ , are you?" he murmured.

"No," she whispered. "Just being friendly. The longer the foreplay the better for me."

He trailed his fingers up her arm. "I'd be disappointed if that wasn't on the chart."

"I assure you, several lines point back to it."

"Good." She felt him turn his head to kiss the top of hers.

They spent the rest of the ballet like that. He would occasionally stroke her arm, always with a light, teasing touch. It was nice, exactly the kind of thing she liked to warm up. When the bows and applause were done, they waited for the crowd to thin a bit and she took the opportunity to kiss him.

"Mmm," he murmured as the kiss broke, a sound she felt as much has heard. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied, cupping his jaw. "I'm looking forward to my chart presentation."

"You ready to go home?"

"Absolutely," she told him. He stood and held her hand as they made their way out of the box and down the stairs. 

There had to be a hundred people in the valet line. "We chose poorly," Sam muttered. "Stay here, I'm going to go see about alternate transportation."

It was on the tip of her tongue to what that meant, but he was already gone. With a shrug, she pulled out her phone to check messages and wait for him. She supposed worst case she could hover them both back home.

Five minutes later, she got a text from him. _The car is six layers of blocked in. Come up to the roof._

Swiveling, she tried to peer up at the roof, but it was too dark to see anything. Rather than try to make her way back inside and find stairs, she hovered around to the side of the building out of sight of the crowd and fiddled with the setting on her chair so it would take her up. Sam was waiting up there, and he had his wings on. "Glad we got that thing a seatbelt."

"It does come in handy." She eyed the wings. "Did you have those under your shirt?"

"No, I just have minions who also fly. One of the boys dropped it off for me."

She'd give him points for ingenuity. "That's probably an abuse of your power but I'm horny enough not to care."

He grinned. "Good. And I know you're fond of the wings." He held out an arm for her.

The flutter in her belly might have been nerves, but it felt more like anticipation. She adjusted the chair so she was standing, then reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her, and fastened some sort of harness around her. Then he hit the control to fold the chair—she'd been astonished the first time Kadir showed her how small the thing folded up. He slung it around to attach somewhere behind him, then stretched out the wings. "You trust me?"

A part of her wanted to point out that having sex with him required at least as much trust as what they were about to do - sex, for example, didn't have safety equipment. But instead she just nodded and resettled her arms around him.

Admittedly, him jumping off the side of the building was a little terrifying. But then they soared up, away from the buildings and high above the city. She hadn't been up this high since the chaotic night they flew in. She couldn't help tightening her grip a little, which made him grin. After a few minutes of not falling, she got the nerve to look down and watched the buildings pass beneath them. 

It didn't take very long to get to the palace. He landed gently on the balcony outside her room. But instead of letting her go, he wrapped the wings around her and kissed her. She cupped the back of his head and kissed him back, deep and intense. The whole thing was like some sort of fantasy and she was happy to get lost in it. It was impossible not to feel safe and protected wrapped up like this. 

He carried her inside, somehow not breaking the kiss. The wings folded back up and he unhooked her so he could set her down gently on the end of her bed. "So," he said as he took the wings off. "Tell me about this chart."

She had actually printed out a little tongue-in-cheek chart earlier. Now that she was in the moment, it felt a little silly. This had not been the flirting foreplay in the car home she'd been picturing. "Sorry, brain needs a moment to catch up with reality. I guess I should start with asking if you have any burning questions."

He knelt down in front of her. "How far down can you feel?"

"Full sensation ends around my navel but I get. . . distant impressions farther down." No way to do this without dirty words or clinical ones. "Clitoral stimulation works and is the only way to get me off. I get wet and find penetration pleasant, both in sensation and connection, but it's not gonna do much for be beyond 'pleasant.'"

"You'd be surprised how many women with full nerve function feel the same way." He smiled. "Or maybe you wouldn't." She had absolutely no idea how this man managed to say words like 'full nerve function' and sound hot. He could probably turn her on reading German engineering textbooks. 

He cupped on of her breasts and drew his hand slowly downward. "Tell me when the gradient starts."

She flattened her hand on his as he moved it down her body, holding his gaze. When his palm had passed her belly button, she said, "Gets a little fuzzy." He nodded and moved it lower. She leaned back, stretching out so he had more access. She knew from her hand on his he was now pressed against her mons. "Bit like poking your foot when it's asleep."

"Good way or bad way?"

"Presently, pretty good." She stroked her fingers up his wrist a little, feeling the faint internal tingle that meant her body was responding. "It's distant, but it's arousing." She really hoped the the clinical words sounding sexy went both ways.

He watched her. "For accurate data, I think this experiment needs to be repeated naked."

Yeah, definitely aroused. "That seems like a logical step." Releasing his hand, she grabbed fistfuls of her dress and started to tug it up. He helped her get it up over her head. She was still freeing her arms from the fabric when he whistled. Her lingerie had been noticed.

Her mental debate between fancy lingerie and commando had taken up most of the afternoon. Monica was not in residence and Sharon was off tracking down the doctor, so she was a bit lacking for female advice. She'd just about decided to go ask Laura Barton when Wanda had appeared in the doorway, informed her she thought loudly, and that Sam seemed the type to like unwrapping. Clearly, taking advice from the psychic paid off.

She tossed the dress aside and lay back again so he could appreciate the view. A flimsy black lace bra propped her breasts up to their best advantage. The matching lace panties stood out stark against the pale skin of her hips.

"God, you're gorgeous," he said, starting his test again—though taking more time tracing the edges of her bra first.

Her nipples tightened, outlined perfectly under the thin lace. Voice a little shaky, she said, "Those are very sensitive."

That got her a raised eyebrow. "More than usual?"

She nodded. "Not sure if it's just how I'm built or some sort of accommodation for the rest of it."

He ran his thumbnail across her nipple through the bra, and it shot through her. "Nerves are funny things. Referred pain happens. Stands to reason so does referred pleasure."

A shudder ran through her and she lifted up into his touch. "Whatever it is, it's helpful."

His hands drifted down over her ribs. "I have a second question."

"I'm at your disposal."

"Do you have a vibrator, and if so, where is it?"

She grinned and pointed. "Night stand.”

He leaned up to kiss her before going over to get it. “We’re going to be just fine.”

Craning her neck, she was able to watch him rummage in her drawer and bring out the little plastic bulb. It only had a couple of settings, but got her the intense stimulation she needed. When he came back to her end of the bed she reached up and he obligingly leaned in to kiss her. He let her hold on so he could reach behind her and unhook her bra. Then he set her back on the bed to peel it slowly down her arms, trailing his fingers over her skin as he went. Unwrapping had been the right call.

It had been a long time since she'd been naked with a man. Relationships were hard to manage and one-night stands were awkward when all your limbs worked. She didn't really feel like doing the math, but it was definitely a chunk of time. And none of them had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her now.

He bent to kiss her again and the fabric of his shirt brushed her nipples, making her shudder again. Tugging the edge of the tunic, she said, “Off."

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, leaning back to pull it up over his head. She’d seen him in enough workout shirts to have an idea what he looked like shirtless, but her imagination didn’t do it justice. It wasn't the same kind of muscle as Steve Rogers or even Clint. It was leaner, more toned and less defined. Sam probably had more in common with a dancer or gymnast than a football player.

Propping up on an elbow, she flattened her other hand on his stomach and slid it across his ribs, tracing muscle. Then she leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the exposed skin. He made a small humming noise in response, cupping one breast and circling his thumb around the nipple.

She moaned against his skin, fingers tightening on his hip. The touch sent heat through her and the dull tingle in her sex grew stronger. 

“This is fascinating,” he told her. He pulled out of her grip so he could slide down her, bending his head to kiss her other breast. “Can you come from this?”

"I don't know," she admitted, stroking the back of his head. He ran his tongue along her nipple, then blew on the damp skin. It tightened almost painfully and she bucked. “Fuck."

“Definitely worth exploration,” he told her, before sucking the nipple into his mouth. She moaned something that might have been his name. His hand came up and cupped her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lani closed her eyes and swore she saw stars. The tingle flared into a pleasant burn. Clearly he was on to something. None of her past lovers had ever bothered trying.

With what seemed like endless patience he licked and sucked and nibbled her breasts, drawing the nipples into peaks then soothing them into swollen pouts. She whimpered and groaned and clutched at him. The burn grew, consuming her belly, and she shuddered over and over, pushed right to the edge. "Please," she whispered, running desperate hands over his back and shoulders. "Please, I can't - I need -“

“Shhh,” he murmured. He released on breast to slide his hand downward, but only as far as the line where sensation began to fade. He ran his fingertips idly over her skin, there were the nerves often misfired, making this feel strange. Right now that strange felt very good. She tried to lift into his hand, muscles in her stomach and back tightening. She begged again but he just continued the idle patterns on her belly and lowered his head to suckle her breast again.

The pull on her oversensitive flesh, plus the half-felt sensations lower down blended and merged into something entirely new. The burn spread, flooded her, and she came with a cry, shuddering roughly.

When she opened her eyes, he was leaning over her, grinning. “Hi.”

"Hello." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "You look kind of smug, but you earned it.”

“I’m a fan of creative problem solving,” he told her, bending to kiss her. “I’m so happy that worked.”

"Me too." She cupped his face, thumb stroking along his cheek. "Thank you.”

“For deviating from the chart?”

"Mmmhmm. Fuck the chart.”

“To be honest, I was kind of hoping for a different kind of fucking.”

She laughed, drawing him down for another kiss. Any man who made her laugh this much in bed was a keeper. "I'm certainly up for that, too.”

“Good,” he said between kisses. “We still have the world’s tiniest vibrator to play with.”

"That's a perfectly normal sized vibrator," she informed him, letting her hands roam his skin again.

He picked it up. “How do I even turn it on?”

"The bottom twists. There's only three speed settings.”

She watched him turn it on, and turn the speed all the way up. He made an impressed face at it. “This must be Wakandan.”

"It is. Most of my stuff is. I didn't have a chance to pack before coming here." And no way in hell she was having her mother send that particular drawer from home.

He nodded, and then took the thing and trailed it down her body, taking a slow tour that was surprisingly arousing. Mercifully, he avoided her nipples, which were now sensitive to the point of pain. It buzzed down her belly, to the no man's land of sensation, causing odd little jolts and sparks.

She propped herself up on her elbows to watch him drag it over the band of her underwear. He centered it over her clit and she felt the vibrations sink into her, though he wasn’t pressing it quite hard enough. It was enough to start her tingling again and she sighed, tipping her head back, instinctively trying to lift up again. "Please. . .”

He lifted the vibe and she made a noise of disappointment, but he was just taking her underwear down. He bent to kiss her navel while he was at it.

She ran her hand over the short strands of his hair, tickling her palm. "You are the most patient man I have ever met.”

“That is true on a number of levels.” She had the vague sense of him touching her, and then murmured, “God, you’re wet.”

His tone made her chuckle a little. "I suspected I would be." She reached out and hooked a finger in the waistband of his pants, tugging him.

“Excellent idea,” he said, and then he stood up to take them off.

The room was dim, neither of them had bothered to put a light on, and he was in shadow, so she only got a general sense of him. It was enough to add to the heat slowly building up again, though. Grinning, she crooked her finger at him. He crawled back over her, and the vibe reappeared. “Hi.”

She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. "About time you got here.” 

“Yeah,” he whispered before he kissed her. He moved her legs however he needed, and then a moment later he was inside her. He moved the vibe again and it hit just the right spot. She moaned, shuddering and saw his lids flutter. Clearly he'd felt her reaction as well. She wound her arms around his shoulders and kissed him lightly as he started to move.

The sensation of him moving inside her was dim and distant, little more than a pressure that came and went. But with the vibe tucked between them, it was a pressure that built and blended with the heat inside her. It suddenly occurred to her she was going to come again, something that hadn't happened since before the accident that had paralyzed her.

She feel the tension in his shoulders, strong enough it was a fine tremor. He was waiting for her. She didn’t doubt for a second he’d do it as long as she needed. They would need to talk about that if it became a habit. But for now she closed her eyes and focused on the burn. One of his hands snaked between then and stroked her breast, rolling the nipple.

A little whimper bubbled out of her as the third sensation melded with the rest. Then the burn consumed her. Muscles in her back tensed, arching her body, as she shook and gasped at the intense pleasure the pulsed through her. He pressed his face into her neck and his whole body shuddered. All she could really do right then was hang on.

Very slowly, he relaxed, sinking his weight onto her. She nuzzled his jaw, stroking the back of his head. She was breathless, but he sounded like he'd run a marathon, so she let him take as long as he needed. He was a rather pleasant weight on top of her. Eventually he pushed up on his elbows and just looked down at her. She leaned up a little to kiss him. It was slow and tender, drained of all heat—but that was just fine. She cupped his face and he tangled his fingers in her hair. For a few moment's there was just the two of them in the world.

"You will need to let me up at some point," she murmured.

“Of course, of course,” he replied, carefully rolling off of her. He stretched out on his back and let out a contented sigh.

Reaching across the covers, she tangled her fingers with his and gave him a little squeeze. He looked over at her. “Thank you.”

Her brows arched. " _You're_ thanking _me_?”

“Yeah. You rescued me from hell.”

"Ah." So not just about tonight. She lifted their joined hands and kissed his knuckles. “Anytime."

His hand tightened on hers and he nodded. She was pretty good at it, and she couldn’t possibly read all the things in his eyes. They made her heart ache for him, and she felt a little helpless. 

The moment passed and she scooted closer to kiss him again. "I need to go clean up. Why don't you get comfortable and I'll join you in a minute?”

“Mmm. Take all the time you need.”

He'd detached her chair from his wings when he'd taken them off so she whistled for it. Kadir had been kind of amused then she'd chosen that as her method of recall, but she liked it. You got to develop a certain relationship with your chair after a while and being able to whistle for it like a dog certainly fit.

She heaved herself into it and hovered into the bathroom to pee and clean up. She could hear Sam rustling around in the bedroom as she did so. When she got back out there he’d turned back the bed covers. She’d put a robe on, which prompted him to say, “I was kind of hoping you’d still be naked.” 

"This seat was not intended for bare ass," she informed him. "I can sleep naked, since you asked so nicely.”

“I can ask _very_ nicely.”

Parking at the side of the bed, she shrugged out of the robe and hauled herself onto the mattress. He wrapped and arm around her waist and helped pull her farther onto the bed. She was used to people being more awkward about moving her, to the point it was easier to do it herself. But he did it with confidence, and never more than was useful. It was remarkably intuitive of him.

He tucked her against his chest and resettled. “You know, I think you were worth it.”

"Worth going to the RAFT for?”

“I mean, not saying I want to go back. But there are days I’m okay with it. And you’re a huge a part of that.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "I think I understand. Our relationship has eased some of the stress of leaving my life behind. Gave me hope that this was a new beginning, not an end.”

“I think I’d be someplace very dark without you.”

Lani actually had no doubt of that at all. Sometimes she was still surprised he wasn't far worse than he was. She gave him a gentle squeeze. "I'm happy to help you however I can.”

He was quiet a moment, then he sighed. “I probably should have come and sit on your couch instead of, you know, getting in your pants. But I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

Couldn't really disagree with either of those sentiments, either. Though it did make her feel a little guilty. Stroking his arm, she offered, "I'm still always willing to listen. If you want to talk.”

“I think I keep hoping time will do the work for me. It’s okay some days. Maybe eventually it will be okay every day.”

"Time is often the best medicine. But finding someone you can share your less socially acceptable thoughts with can help as well.”

“I don’t know that you want to hear my ugly thoughts. I’m not even sure I want to hear them.”

"I've heard a lot of ugly thoughts," she told him. "You won't horrify me. Though naked in bed is probably not the best time for it.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, no, probably not.”

She stroked a hand over his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin and the firm muscle beneath. "This was a good night.”

He rubbed her back. “Totally worth the ballet.”

"That bad, huh?”

“I’d happily do it again,” he insisted. “You’re that good.”

She laughed. "Oh, high praise indeed.”

He laughed himself, and turned her so he could kiss her. They did have all night. She stroked her hand down farther, curling her fingers around him. "This time," she murmured. "I get to play a little.”

He groaned in response. “Yes, ma’am.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sam and Lani spent most of Sunday laying around in her room. It was a perfect lazy sort of day. The kind he hadn’t had in a long, long time. The kind that could make you forget everything that was bothering you.

In the evening, they ordered in supper and sat on her couch to eat in. Lani sat with her legs in his lap, covered with a blanket and her plate of food balanced on her lap. "As dates go, I'd say this was my most successful," she commented.

He grinned at her. “I will agree with that.”

"How will we ever top it?”

Sam stole one of her noodles. “We’re very creative people.”

"You have certainly proven that today.”

He sighed. “I have an early day tomorrow, I probably should sleep in my room.”

"More training?" she asked, stretching to pick up her wine glass.

“I’ll have you know my assistant is starting tomorrow.”

She grinned. "Really? You broke down and got one?”

“It was time.” He shrugged. “Sharon kind of ambushed me the other day, and it occurred to me having my schedule managed wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Her brows went up, but she paused to drink more wine and eat another bite of bread before asking, "What did Sharon want to talk about?”

“She wanted to talk to me about going after the Hydra doctor they’re trying to get to fix Barnes.”

"Did she want you to help?”

“I think it was more. . . commiserate, make sure I’ll look after Steve, etc. She’s going to the US, it’s really dangerous.”

Lani ate a few more bites of food, then moved her plate to the low table in front of the couch. "I had sort of assumed your Steve-minding days were over. You don't talk about him much.”

“We’ve just both been busy. I’ve been busy.” Sharon had actually complained about Steve’s lack of busy-ness. “It’s complicated.”

Clearly there was something off in his tone, because she was now studying him carefully. "Do you want to talk about it? See if we can uncomplicated it?”

“You’re making your work face at me.”

That made her smile a little. "Sorry. You want me to back off?”

He sighed again. “I do but I shouldn’t. I think I’m mostly hoping the rotation of the earth with do the work for me.”

She gripped the back of the couch and scooted closer so she could rub his back. "For what it's worth, you do seem a lot more settled than when you got here.”

He leaned into the touch. “I’m happy here,” he said. “Work. You.”

"As exiles go, this is pretty nice," she admitted. "Is there a but?”

There was always a but. “I think a lot of things in my head I feel like an asshole for even thinking, let alone saying.” Not that weren’t leaking out at inopportune moments anyway.

She was still rubbing his back. "Sometimes it's important to say things to people you feel have treated you poorly. Even if it worked out all right. Even if you know they're sincerely sorry. Saying it lets you heal. The fact that everything worked out for you doesn't negate the fact you were wronged.”

“I knew what I was getting into,” he replied.

"I've heard you say that several times. I would submit that no, you didn't." He looked at her. "Yes, you knew Steve tended to get you into messes. But he'd always gotten you back out of them. You got caught in his undertow and before this, he'd always landed safely on the shore. This time he very nearly didn't. And he didn't end up in the RAFT with you. So you might have thought you knew what you were getting into. But you really didn't. No one ever knows what their getting into.”

“So if I didn’t then neither did he. Do I even have a right to be pissed off? Hell, I don’t even really know what I’m pissed _about_.” Just admitting that he was pissed at all was probably something.

She was quiet a moment, seemingly thinking that over. "Say you had two friends that were in a car accident. It was the driver's fault but not in a reckless way - he wasn't drunk or anything but perhaps swerved right when he should have swerved left. The driver is injured but the passenger is hurt much worse. Would you think they passenger had the right to be a little pissed at their friend the driver? Or should they just shrug and say 'I knew what I was getting into when I got in the car.’"

He tipped his head back. “Depends. Did the driver rescue a second passenger from the backseat first, go see to him, and leave the first passenger to wonder if he’d come back before the gas tank caught fire?”

Her had stilled on his shoulder, but when he looked at her she was smiling kindly. "Ah. I think I have an inkling of what you're pissed about.”

Sam sighed again. “I shouldn’t be. I _told_ them to go.”

"Emotions generally don't listen to reason, Sam," she said gently. "I don't get the sense you want anything from him. You understand he's sorry. But that doesn't take away from the need to tell him he hurt you.”

“What point does that serve? I don’t need the weight of somebody else’s guilt. And you will take up tap dancing before he gets how big a blindspot Barnes is for him.”

"You worked with vets, didn't you? You must be familiar with the AA concept of resentments. The point is to air it out so it doesn't affect your friendship." She shrugged. "Unless you want to distance yourself from him, which is also a valid desire.”

“If I knew what I wanted, I’d do it.”

She rubbed his back again. "You don't have to decide right this minute. But I would like to help you sort it out.”

“I know.” He looked at her. “You think I should just vent my spleen at him? I don’t exactly think I’d win a fist fight.”

When she answered, she seemed to choose her words carefully. "I think Steve is perceptive enough to know you're upset with him, but, as you said, Barnes is a blindspot for him. So I think having an honest conversation with him would be helpful to you both. If you think you can't do it without being angry or getting off the rails, then I would suggest finding someone to help moderate it.”

“You want to referee my conversation with Steve?”

"I don't know that it would be the highlight of my day. But I do know how.”

He found the idea appealing and exhausting in equal measures. He couldn’t avoid Steve forever. It was only going to get worse when they woke Barnes up. Then he’d have two of them to avoid. “You really think it will help?”

"I do. Communication is important in any relationship, romantic or platonic.”

He turned and looked out the windows at the jungle a moment. “It’s such a clusterfuck. Barton blames Stark. Wanda blames Barton. I blame Steve. Lang, I suspect, blames me. Barnes almost certainly blames himself.”

She propped her elbow on the back of the couch and braced her head on her fist. "Who do you think Steve blames?”

“Zemo. Hydra. God.” He shrugged. “He feels guilty and he feels sorry, but I don’t doubt for a second he feels he was right. There is not a human being on this planet more certain they are right than Steve Rogers when he’s got his teeth in something.”

"That's not incompatible with blaming yourself.”

“No, but it probably explains why I can’t stand listening to more apologies. ‘This is my fault, but I was right to do it’ is different from ‘Sorry I fucked up’.”

"That would be a good thing to bring up during any spleen venting.”

“He’s never listened to me before about that, I can’t imagine why he’d start now.”

"Because this time he ruined a lot of lives," she said quietly. "And he has to look those people in the eye everyday and know that. That's not an easy thing to live with, if you're not a sociopath.”

“No, I know,” Sam said. “Maybe that’s how he lives with it. I think it helped him not drown under the weight of all the people that died taking down SHIELD.”

"You know, if you do patch things up with Steve, maybe you could nudge him into coming to see me.”

“Oh, yeah. Steve has like six layers of PTSD.”

She tilted her head. "Think of the papers I could write on him.”

“You could write papers on all of us.”

"It's how I intend to spend my twilight years," she assured him.

He reached up to sift his fingers into her hair. “I’ll help you proofread them.”

Her smile was very warm and gentle. "Thank you. I'm a terrible speller.” He curled his fingers behind her neck and pulled her close enough to kiss her.

The kiss was as gentle as her smile, but full of heat and promise. When they parted, she murmured, "You can stay here tonight. I promise not to keep you up too late.”

“Sounds like fun.”

*

When Lani got to her office in the morning, Sam’s door was closed and she could hear talking inside. She hoped he was getting along with his new assistant. 

She’d barely gotten to her desk when Wanda Maximoff appeared in her doorway, grinning. “I heard the lingerie was a hit.”

"Heard?" Lani asked, tapping her head. "Or is he kissing and telling?”

She tapped her head in answer. “I went outside and I could still hear you guys.”

Lani covered her mouth with a hand. "I'm so sorry.”

“It’s fine. It’s worse when it’s new, eventually I learn how to mostly tune it out. I’d rather hear people’s sex than people’s nightmares.”

That was probably a good point. "Still, I hate to effect your sleep.”

“Well. . . Saturday night _everybody_ was getting it on. Maybe I need to find someone to hook up with.”

"Has anyone caught your eye?" Lani asked, part teasing part probing.

“No. But there is plenty of eye candy in Wakanda.” She cocked her head. “Laura is coming to see you. You should talk to her.”

Laura didn't have an appointment, but, then none of them really kept official appointments. She just had an open door policy. "That bad?”

Wanda pushed off the doorframe. “Sounds like it. I’ll see you later, yes?”

"Of course. Have a good day.”

Wanda waved and ducked out. Sure enough, Laura came in a moment later. “Hey. You busy?”

"Not at all," Lani said easily. "Come have a seat. What's on your mind?”

She sunk into a chair. “Found out today the US government seized our land—some bullshit about criminal proceeds—and sold it to the highest bidder.”

Lani winced. "I'm sorry to hear that. How long have you had the land?”

“Sixteen years.” She sighed. “I mean I knew that we could never go home. But I also don’t think it’s sunk in. I’m still waiting for the shock to wear off.”

"It will likely keep hitting you, at least for a little while. An change of this magnitude can come in waves.”

“Every time one of them comes, I want to strangle Clint all over again.”

Lani resisted smiling. "Have you spoken to him about the loss of the land?”

She shook her head. “Thought I should let my temper settle first. And he’ll just shut down and quietly beat himself up. Even though I _told_ him to go get Wanda and get involved.”

"I think it's fair to say neither of you saw this particular outcome when you were making that decision.”

“I suppose I could go back to being mad at Steve.” She sighed again. “They were all doing what they thought was right.”

"They were," Lani agreed. "And everyone lost something because of it. That doesn't make it right, or mean you should stop being angry and hurt about it. But it's a good thing to keep in mind.”

“I bet you hear a lot of this these days, don’t you.”

She couldn't help but think of Sam and this time she allowed herself to smile. "It's a common sentiment.”

Laura heaved a sigh. “Okay. I have kids to go chase.”

"Of course. But could I offer a suggestion?" Laura nodded. "Start finding ways to . . . belong here. It's helped others. Talk to the staff here about school for the kids, maybe even finding somewhere outside of the palace to live. The more you start finding the good in this life, the easier letting go of the other one will be.”

She smiled. “That sounds like good advice.”

"It's helped some others. That were feeling the same as you.”

“It would be nice to eventually get out of this palace. I miss having land.”

Lani had been thinking the same thing, though she'd be content with a flat or small house in the capital. "The palace is good because we're all here and can be a support network for each other. But eventually, we'll all need to find individual places.”

“Maybe we should build a giant compound. Have space but be nearby.”

"It's something to think about. What comes next. Planning for the future can be very empowering.”

She nodded, and stood up. “Thank you, Lani.”

"You're very welcome. Glad to help.”

She got as far as the door, then turned. “One weird thing I don’t know what to make of. . .”

"What's that?" Lani asked.

“The buyer, of our farm at the auction? It was Tony Stark.”

Lani felt her brows go up. "That is interesting.”

“Like I said. No idea what to make of that.”

"Yeah." She didn't really know Stark well enough to speculate. "I suppose we'll have to see what happens.”

Laura left after that, giving Lani some time to herself. She had paperwork do deal with—even in Wakanda, some things never changed. She turned on some music while she worked on it, and wrote up some notes from her chat with Laura. A lot of her therapy was done in bits and pieces, so it helped to keep detailed notes. She toyed with the idea of writing down some of what she'd discussed with Sam. Their talk about Steve had sort of straddled the line between relationship and therapist. Still, keeping notes seemed wrong in that particular instance. He was her boyfriend, she could keep track of his problems in her head.

There was knock on her door, and she looked up to see Sam in a the doorway with a woman she’d never seen before. “Hey,” he said said. “I wanted to make introductions.”

"I like meeting new people." She tapped a button to pause her music and hovered around her desk. "Your assistant?”

He grinned at her. “Yes. This is Chaniya. This is Lani Yee. I’m sure you two will conspire against me at some point.”

Lani held out a hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too." Chaniya's grip was firm and confident. "I look forward to our scheming.”

“My work here is done,” Sam said, then he looked over at her. “Dinner tonight?”

"Absolutely. I have a meeting at five, but am free afterwards.”

He met her eyes for a moment. “You doing okay today?”

"I'm fine," she said, a little surprised.  
He nodded, and leaned over to give her a kiss. “Come over when you’re free.”

She cupped his face as he kissed her, smiling when he lifted his head. "I'll see you then.”

They had a week that was oddly honeymoon-like, in that they spent every free moment they weren’t working together, and they spent most of _those_ moments naked. It lasted until Sharon got back with the doctor in tow. Lani had kind of been expecting a gray-haired man, possibly with an accent of some sort. Instead it was a quiet American woman with a scar on her face.

Lani made a point of introducing herself, especially after seeing the woman flinch when Steve greeted her. Dr. Newbury was polite, but there was a fragile way she held herself that spoke of trauma not entirely dealt with.

"Clearly she's gone through a great deal," she said to Sam over dinner that night. "But she gives off an air like she'll shatter at the wrong word.”

“And we dragged this woman all the way to Wakanda.” He stabbed his fork into his food with a little more force than was needed.

Oh dear. "Sharon said she agreed to come after hearing what had happened. I don't think dragging was required.”

“You think it’s a good idea?”

"I've exchanged a dozen words with her, I don't know that I can make that call. But I get the sense the doctor's life was ruined a very long time ago. At least here she's safe and protected and doesn't need to be looking over her shoulder all the time.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Maybe she’ll come talk to you.”

"I hope so," she said sincerely. She watched him a moment, then asked, neutrally as possible, "Have you given any more thought to talking it out with Steve?”

He sighed. “I should. And I should do it before Dr. Newbury wakes Barnes up.”

"Probably." She paused again. "I'm still happy to facilitate.”

“You don’t think that’s going to make him feel. . . ganged up on?”

"We could invite Sharon, too," she said, only half joking. "I bet she's got some things to say, too.”

“I figure they worked their shit out on their beach vacation.”

Sharon had spoken to her a few times - unofficially of course - but enough for Lani to be pretty sure that wasn't entirely true. All she said was a noncommittal, “Mmm."

“I’m hip to your noises, now, you know.”

She smiled. "Oh, are you?”

“Yes. That one was ‘I don’t agree, but I don’t want to spend this entire meal discussing it’.”

"Damn, you are onto me. Now I'll have to mix them up. Though technically that was 'I don't agree, but the tenuous grip I have on patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing it.’"

He laughed. “Got it.”

"I don't want to be a nag," she said, figuring it was worth one more shot before letting the matter drop. "But the landmines are getting more frequent. I don't want to get to the point I'm measuring what I say before speaking to you. If your anger at Steve is effecting other relationships, that's a bad sign.”

He sighed. “That is a very valid point.”

She reached out and covered his hand with hers. "I'm here, whatever you want to do.”

“I know,” he said. “Because you’re the best.”

"I try." She paused, then added, "You make me happy. I don't like seeing you so upset.”

“I think a lot of it is just. . . we’re all adjusting, you know?”

"I know. I don't want to push. If you're not ready then I understand.”

He shook his head. “People need pushing. Even me. Maybe especially me.”

"It's good you know this about yourself," she told him gently.

“I need pushing,” he said, watching her. “What do you need?”

She considered a moment. "Patience," she said finally.

He turned her hand over and traced his finger in a circle on her palm. “Patience?”

"I'm complicated. I require a lot of extra effort. I get lost in my own head. I'm a workaholic. I internalize problems because I overthink everything." She smiled a lifted a shoulder. “Patience."

“If there’s one thing I’ve got plenty of, it’s time.”


	9. Chapter 9

It was a random morning. The sun was barely over the horizon. Sam liked to run the perimeter of the palace grounds. It was so large it was miles around, and the view was quite varied. He liked to think when he ran.

Steve enjoyed the same trail. Sam knew it. They tended to go at different times so didn’t cross each other often, and even when they did they seemed to be coming from opposite directions. Fitting, perhaps, if he wanted to analyze it.

But on this particular morning, Steve had come out not long after him, and had chosen to run in the same direction. He passed Sam and out of either ironic habit or deliberate reference, he called out, “On your left,” as he passed by.

Sam stared at his back as he pulled ahead, and the words that came out of his mouth were almost involuntary. The sort of instinct that blew right through anyone’s politeness filters. “Do you ever fucking look back?” he shouted after him.

Steve's steps stumbled a little as he slowed and looked back, surprise and confusion obvious on his face. "I'm sorry?"

Sam stopped, and took a moment to look at the sky. In for a penny, in for a pound. “As you move through the universe, do you ever turn around and look at the blast radius behind you? ‘Cause, Steve, there are _people_ in it.”

It seemed to sink in then that this was a serious conversation happening on a random running trail near the jungle. Steve blew out a long, slow breath. "Sam, it's not that - I _know_ I screwed a lot of people, doing what I did.”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t ask if you knew. I asked if you looked.”

There was a pause and Sam braced for the apologies and excuses. Instead, he got a very quiet, “No."

Sam sighed, suddenly feeling more exhausted than anything else. “You just go forward, like God is at your back. You trust your troops to follow.”

"I know." Steve tipped his head back now, blowing out a breath. "I have to. I have to barrel forward, certain in the knowledge I'm right. Otherwise. . . I can't do it. I can't be the Cap, I can't lead people. For good or ill.”

“Some of us don’t get that kind of certainty. We fight anyway. You ignore people’s concerns and it eventually feels like you’re ignoring us.”

"You could have turned back. You could have stayed in New York. Or London. I thought you have you had my back because that's where you wanted to be.”

He threw up his arms. “Well, somebody had to keep you from getting yourself killed!”

"I didn't ask you to do that!" He'd actually raised his voice. Sam had thought only Stark could get him to do that. "I don't ask anybody to do that. I don't - I don't try to collect these people. I don't seek it out. But suddenly there they are and I'm supposed to be responsible for them. And the one time I try to do something selfish-" He blew out a breath. "I never wanted _any_ of this.”

“We’re not your troops, Steve, we’re your friends. Believe it or not, there are people in this world—in the modern, present times—who love you. I don’t try to keep you alive because you asked me to, I do it because _I_ don’t want you to be dead.”

"The line between my friends and my troops had always been fuzzy." Steve spread his hands, then paced away a little. When he turned back, a lot of the fight had gone out of him. "I don't know what to say to you. You know I'm sorry. I know that's not enough. I can't take back what happened.”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know either. Lani thought I’d feel better if I yelled at you directly instead of yelling at other people unintentionally.”

He paused. "Do you?”

He sighed heavily. “Not really, no.” He looked over at Steve. “She really loves you, you know. Sharon. I can see it.”

"I know," he said quietly. "She ruined her life for me, too. She insists it's fine and it was her decision but I just. . . You're so angry I don't know how to fix it and she's so . . . not angry I don't know what to do.”

“Don’t fuck her over when Barnes wakes up. That’s what you do.”

"I don't - I'm not going to fuck her over.”

“Good,” Sam replied. “Listen to her. That’s probably also a good thing to do.”

"I try to do that, too." He seemed to hesitate, then asked, "How are you and Lani doing?”

This was at least a topic he enjoyed talking about. He even smiled. “Good. Really good, actually. Never imagined exile would have that kind of upside.”

Steve smiled back. "I happy for you. She seems like a really good person. Sharon likes her a lot.”

“Maybe you should talk to her,” Sam found himself saying. “She’s really good at what she does. Maybe she’ll help you sort your shit out.”

"Sharon said the same thing," He admitted. "It didn't know if it would be weird. Since she was. . . yours.”

“She compartmentalizes even better than you, man.”

That made him smile again. "Okay. I'll talk to her.”

Sam tried not to let his surprise show. “Good.” Maybe they’d figure this out one day after all. 

"You wanna keep running?" Steve asked, hooking a thumb behind him. "I can pace myself."

Sam inclined his head, deciding to take the olive branch. "All right." Steve nodded and waited for Sam to jog towards him before turning to fall into step next to him.

They ran for a bit before Sam said, "Having something to do helps."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm having trouble with that.”

“I wish I could help you with that,” Sam said. “The King just kind of called me one day and offered me a job. I don’t think I have the pull to dig something else up, unless you want to actually work _for_ me.”

"I don't know that dynamic would do us any favors. And you deserve your own thing. You've been doing great with the Falcons. You don't need me hanging around." He blew out a breath, squinting out at the jungle. "I just don't know what I want to do.”

“All these years and you’ve circled back to the same problem. I got the same answer—you can do anything.”

"I want to be useful," he said, with a bit of that old Steve fierceness. "They don't need most of my skills and the ones left aren't particularly useful.”

“Like what?”

"Sharon keeps telling me I should do something with my drawing. Teach art or make stuff for a gallery or something.”

“It doesn’t have to be an instrument of war to be useful.”

They jogged in silence a few minutes. "That's probably on the list of things I should talk to Lani about.”

“You should, she’s really good at that shit.”

"You might be biased," Steve teased him. "But I do think I need someone . . . objective to bounce things off of. Help me find some clarity.”

“I am biased. But she’s really brilliant.” He could hear the pride in his own voice.

"Apparently, she actually got Clint to talk to her. After New York.”

“She’s the best. They sent her to talk to me. On the RAFT. Like she could snake charm your location out of me.”

Steve was quiet again. "I'm sorry you went there. What they did to you.”

Sam stared at the trail ahead of them. Conversations about shitty topics were easier without eye contact. “I know. Nobody thought it would go that way.” He glanced at him. “Lani took one look at me and voluntarily ruined her life to save our asses.”

"Yeah, she did. Saved me from having to steal a plane. Or figure out how long I can hold my breath.”

“I’d kind of given up on hope of a daring rescue. If I’m being honest. ” 

Steve seemed to flinch a little. "I'm sorry for that, too.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have expected it. It’s the RAFT.” Not that Steve hadn’t done impossible things, and made impossible rescues before. But that was different.

They continued their run, feet hitting the dirt in perfect sync. "I wish there was a way I could make this all up to you.”

“My life isn’t so bad now. Lani makes me happy. I love my work. And I am. . . out of your shadow. Wakanda’s been good to me.”

"I'm really happy for you Sam."

"You know. . . I'm happy for myself."

"That's probably more important." Steve looked over at him. "You deserve every bit of it."

"Thank you," he said, and he knew Steve believed it.

The palace was in sight again and they slowed down a little to cool off. "I know this might be pushing it," he said. "But if you and Lani ever wanted to get drinks or dinner with Sharon and I, we'd be up for it."

"Gotta start somewhere, man. And they're friends already."

"Always wanted to have a real double date."

"Well, now we have to."

They reached the court yard and slowed to a walk. Steve was barely winded, but Sam was used to that by now. "Thanks for the run," Steve said, still a little hesitant sounding.

Sam watched him a moment. “I’m out here most mornings.”

Steve was quiet, then nodded. "Maybe I'll see you more often.”

It was a start.

*

Lani was just coming out of the bathroom in the morning, distracted by going over her schedule, when she was surprised to find Sam sitting on her couch. “Hey,” he said. “I heard the shower so I just let myself in.”

"Seems fair." She hovered over to him and leaned in for a kiss. When she leaned back she wrinkled her nose. "Came from your run, I smell.”

“I ran into Steve.”

"Literally?" He didn't look bruised or dirty, which was probably a good sign.

“We talked, believe it or not. Didn’t go too badly.”

"Really? I'm very happy for you, that's great.”

He tipped his head back. “It just kind of. . .came out. I feel better than I did before, though maybe not as well as I thought I would.”

She reached out and rubbed his knee. "It's a process. Like healing an infection. Getting the wound cleaned out is only the first step. How did he seem to take it?”

“A mixture of surprise and remorse and a little defensiveness.” He paused. “And we really need to find him something to do.” 

"Sharon has said similar thing. I can see how inactivity would be unhealthy for a man like him." She tilted her head. "Do you think it would be inappropriate for me to approach T'Challa about it? He might have some sort of solution and is unaware there's a problem.”

“I think that’s a great idea. He won’t take it from anyone else, but I bet he’d take a job from the King.”

"Monica wanted me to sit in on a wedding planning meeting today. I'll see if I can catch his ear while I'm in that wing.”

“Thank you.” He paused. “You want me to go shower before I kiss you?”

She grinned. "Because you asked, I'll give you a pass.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you. Now I’ll go shower. I can smell myself.”

"Self awareness is important. I'll see you at dinner." He stood and when he walked past she took the opportunity to give his ass a pat.

The wedding planning meeting mostly involved people yelling at each other in Wakandan while Monica and Lani sat off to the side, watching like a tennis match. “You see my problem here?”

"I admit, most wedding planning drama includes things like the mother-of-the-bride being allergic to lilies or something.”

“So much of it I really don’t care about.” She gestured at the rest of the room. “They’re arguing about ceremonial protocol. It doesn’t need me. I even got my mother out of their hair.” She shook her head. “That was ugly.”

"I imagine this is all very overwhelming for her," Lani said diplomatically.

“She wants me to wear white.”

Lani paused. "That's the funeral color here.”

“I am aware of that. My parents are obsessed with African culture, you think they’d be cool. I always kind of assumed when I got married she’d decide to sew me a homemade gown out of kente cloth. Whether I wanted it or not.”

Her bark of laughter actually distracted the arguing Wakandans for a moment. Then they went right back to bickering. "Watching your child marry is a very . . . life changing thing for a parent. People react in different ways. Funnel their stress in different ways. It could be far worse, believe me.”

“See a lot of Momzillas, eh?”

"Very much. I was based in Silicon Valley. A lot of money got thrown around at those weddings. And more money does, in fact, mean more problems.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” She leaned forward and yelled something in Wakandan at them.

It quieted the yelling and one of them scribbled something. Lani arched a brow. "What was that?”

“Sometimes I have to remind them I’m going to be the Queen on the other side of this shindig.”

Lani smiled. "Do you have to remind yourself of that, too?”

Monica laughed. “Sometimes, yeah.”

"I suppose it puts it in perspective. At the end of the day, the flower color doesn't really matter."

"It's like this all the time," she said. "I really don't know how to deal with it."

"I think you're doing very well," Lani offered. "With all of this."

"You're talking about more than just the wedding, aren't you?"

"I am. Your life has abruptly changed, in very dramatic ways. As it has for a lot of people. Some are handling it better than others."

"I did volunteer. Not sure I can say that about the rest of them."

"That's true. Forewarning often helps. And with your singing you're not completely unused to the spotlight."

"How are you handling it?" The discussion—still in Wakandan—had resumed, but nobody was paying attention to the two of them.

"Better recently. It helps to have a purpose. A lot of people here need someone to talk to." She smiled despite herself. "A new relationship is also very distracting."

Monica grinned. "I heard that was going well."

"It's going extremely well," she said, feeling a little shy. "He's a great guy."

"T thinks very highly of him. He really likes people who smart mouth him." She must have noticed Lani's confused smile, so she elaborated. "When they were in Germany, when they were first all captured, they're in the back of this police car and it's apparently _super_ tense. And Sam looks over at T and asks, 'So you like cats?'"  
Lani laughed brightly. "Oh, god. That does sound like Sam. He's very good at defusing things. Most of the time."

"I heard about him and Steve arguing in the gardens."

"Mmm. Yes. Long overdue." She supposed she shouldn't be surprised the gossip had made its way around. "Actually, do you know what T'Challa's schedule is? I had a favor to ask."

"He always keeps an hour open in the afternoons. Ask Bahati when it is. She'll let you in."

"Great, good to know."

"He'll make time for you. Tell him I'll kick his ass if he doesn't."

Lani laughed. "It pays to be friends with the future queen, I see."

T'Challa did, in fact, make time for her—no threats required. He even had the surprising idea for Steve to get involved in his diplomatic efforts. She could see the political logic behind it—he was not just sheltering the fugitive former Avengers. He was advertising that he'd done so, and practically daring the United States or the UN or even the remaining legal Avengers to do something about that. A show of bravado and strength.

"It would certainly make him feel useful," Lani agreed. "And it's a job only he can do. I really appreciate you working with me on this."

"It is something that benefits us both. It's good for my people to, to see the value in having you all here." T'Challa shrugged. "It's been an interesting, but I think positive, experience for us."

"From my perspective, I think it's working well on both sides. Sam is very happy with his flock."

"That is good to hear. I do know he's quite popular among his recruits."

That was also good to hear. "He's very proud of them. It's been good for him on any number of levels. The more us refugees can integrate, the better for everyone."

"Monica suggested to me not long ago I ought to arrange for language classes, so everyone can learn Wakandan. I know some are learning, but everyone should. A first step towards living outside the palace, certainly."

"I think that's an excellent idea. Most of us are trying, but formal lessons would help a lot, and cause us to form a support network."

"Consider it done," he said with a nod. "Bahati?" he called.

She poked her head in the door. "Yes, Your Highness?"

"I need to organize language instruction for our guests. And put a meeting with Captain Rogers on my calendar."

"On it, sir."

Lani watched her duck back out, before turning back to the king. "How are you handling everything?" she asked. She was everyone else's therapist, might as well offer her services here.

"I miss my father every day. But it's not the first thing I think in the morning anymore, so I think that's progress."

"That sounds like progress. It can be harder, when the loss is sudden. Any progress is good."

"We're all grieving something here, aren't we? One way or another."

"I think that's a very apt way of putting it," she agreed.

There was a knock and Bahati opened the door. "Your Highness, Minister Anwa is here for you."

He smiled at Lani. "Duty calls."

"Of course," she said, moving to the door. "Thank you again for your time, Your Highness."

"Anytime," he said with a smile, and she let herself out.


	10. Chapter 10

Life fell into a rhythm, one that Sam found more comfortable than he could have expected his exile to produce. He spent most nights at Lani’s. He lived just down the hall, but they found they didn’t like to sleep apart. A couple days a week he ran in the mornings with Steve. Sometimes the conversation was serious, sometimes it wasn’t. But it felt very normal.

“Dr. Newbury thinks she knows how to fix Bucky,” Steve told him one morning.

He swallowed his initial flash of resentment. “That’s good news.”

"Yeah. It involves electro shock, though.”

“Jesus. Don’t do that.” On the RAFT they’d been big on that. It was awful. Barnes wasn’t Sam’s favorite person, but he didn’t deserve that.

"She and the local doctor swear it'll be painless. They'd give him some sedation and muscle relaxants and stuff. Said it was a legitimate psychological treatment. But. . . I don't know." He blew out a breath. "I guess it's not really my decision to make.”

“But you have to wake him up to ask him?”

"Yeah. Apparently he's sort of waking up anyway. They said his brain readings are odd. So we're going to wake him up and see what he thinks.”

Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it was going to happen regardless. “Good luck.”

"Thanks." They ran in silence for a little while. "She doesn't like me. Newbury.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think she likes anybody.”

"Yeah. Seems that way.”

“Some people are just like that. She’s always been fine with me, though Wanda insists my aura or whatever is calm and soothing. Guess it could be that.”

"Sharon thinks she went through some serious shit in Hydra. She was their captive for years and clearly wasn't happy with what they were making her do.”

“I’m not surprised. They were pretty nasty, as I recall.”

"She has some scars. Her fingers are messed up, like they've been broken." Steve sighed, slowing as they reached sight of the palace. "Almost makes me want to go hunting.”

“Target list would get pretty long in a hurry.”

"Yeah, probably." They walked the last few hundred yards to cool down. "You and Lani up for a double date sometime?”

He nodded. “She keeps telling me we need to get a nice dinner.” 

"Friday night? I'll find reservations.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Let me have Chaniya make them. She can get a table anywhere. Apparently I’m a name to drop around here.”

Steve blinked, then grinned at him. "All right then.”

He’d been afraid Steve might be weird about that. “All right.”

With a glance at his watch, he shook his head. "I gotta hit the shower, got a meeting with T'Challa's PR people in forty five minutes. Let Sharon know the time for the restaurant, she's better at that stuff.”

When Sam got back to Lani’s—after a stop back at his place for a shower and a change of clothes, he was surprised to find her in her old wheelchair. “Hey. What happened?”

“The hover chair was tilting a little. Kadir took it. He thinks it’s the lateral stabilization. Or something. I forgot how much I hate this thing.”

He leaned down to kiss her. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay. It's supposed to be just for a few days." She curled her arms around his neck. "How was your run?"

"Good. We're having dinner with Steve and Sharon on Friday night. And they're waking Barnes up this week."

"Busy week." She kissed his jaw. "I should see if they want me hovering around for the wake up."

"Probably." He straightened, because bending over was getting awkward. "You going to have your chair back by Friday?"

"Kadir seemed to think so, unless there's more wrong with it than he thought."

"I'll tell Chaniya to try and find a restaurant that's at least not hole-in-the-wall."

"That you, I'd hate for you to have to carry me around everywhere all night."

He laughed. "Yeah, I'll save that for after we get home."

Her smile was soft and oddly sexy. "Absolutely."

"I'm going to grab some food and head over to work. You have time for lunch today?"

"My day is wide open. Come over whenever."

He gave her a kiss, and then went about getting his day started.

They woke Bucky up later that day. Sam wasn't there for it, but heard from office gossip that he'd sort of attacked Dr. Newbury before settling down. Because what that woman needed was more trauma.

He got the best report during his lunch with Lani. "I sat in on the meeting while Newbury and Netiri explained the procedure they'd be trying." She paused and sipped her drink. "Very thoroughly explained it. I think I learned a few things."

"You think it'll work?"

"The science seems sound. Newbury had a good handle on what was done to him and seems confident this will help. If reluctant to put him through it." Lani shook her head. "I actually cornered her afterwards and suggested she come see me."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "How'd that go?" he asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"She didn't say no, but I'm not exactly optimistic."

"Takes people a while to realize how fucked up they are."

She inclined her head. "Sometimes getting help can be very scary."

"Steve thinks she's afraid of him."

"That's probably a fair assessment."

He ate for a moment. "If she's afraid of Steve—who is generally pretty inoffensive—how is she going to work with Barnes. He is a scary-ass dude."

"You have to look at it from her perspective," Lani said. "Men with airs of authority ordered her torture. Barnes, scary as he might be, was a victim as much as she was."

He moved his head back and forth. "Okay, I can see that. Should probably keep her away from the King."

"I think that's probably a good idea." She propped her chin in a hand. "I should try to rally the women around her. They'd probably feel safe."

"Take her shopping," he suggested. Monica liked to organize shopping trips for the ex-pat women, and Lani always went along. They had some sort of mission to convince Laura Barton to wear fancier shoes.

"That's an excellent idea. I should plant some seeds."

"She looks like someone who could use some friends." 

"Support systems are vital. If she won't talk to me maybe she'll talk to them."

"She may talk to you eventually. You have a way of working yourself into people's good graces."

She gave him a teasing grin. "Is that what I do?"

He leaned across the table to kiss her. "Yes."

"Well, I got you out of it, so it can't be all bad."

Dr. Newbury’s treatment worked surprisingly well. Barnes became a regular fixture on Lani’s calendar, something that surprised Sam—which she chastised him for when he said it. Newbury joined the roster too, eventually, about the same time she and Barnes took up a romance.

Most obnoxiously, Sam found he kind of liked this version of Barnes. He gave Steve a lot of shit, which was something Steve needed. Sam approved. Maybe they’d be friends after all.

One afternoon he was eating lunch when Steve and Barnes had a spontaneous arm wrestling competition to test Barnes’s new arm. Somehow all of the ex-pats ended up down there, including the Israeli guy who helped develop the arm itself. Never one to miss an opportunity, Sam took bets. Loyalty was one thing, vibranium was another, and he made money betting on Barnes.

The match turned into a party in honor of the successful rescue of the last refugee, who arrived in Wakanda that evening. The guest of honor herself didn’t show, likely not wanting be overwhelmed.

But when Sam arrived at his office the following morning, there was Natasha Romanov, sitting in his chair. “This is a swank office,” she said.

“Thanks. You look none the worse for wear for spending a year in hiding,” he replied. 

She lifted a shoulder. "I know how to do it in style.”

He sat in one of the guest chairs, since she was behind his desk. “You avoiding Steve?”

"It's not specifically him, but he's on the list."

“I tried that. Didn’t work out so well.”

She made a face, then squinted at him. "You vent your spleen at him?”

“Didn’t help a whole lot. Though it did at least get us talking to each other, which _did_ help.”

After a moment, she said, "You seem happy here.”

“I think I’m happier here than I was as an Avenger.” He didn’t realize it was true until the words came out of his mouth—but it was.

Nat tilted her head. She'd cut her hair short, in a bob, and dyed it dark. It made her look very severe and little older. "I keep having to burn my life down and start over. After the Room, after the KGB. After SHIELD. Here I am again. I'm so tired of building it up again.”

“This time most of it came along. Maybe it won’t be that hard.”

"I did miss those kids," she said thoughtfully. "Coop tells me there's a waterfall one cam jump off of.”

“So I hear. They keep going camping and hiking. I don’t do wilderness.”

"I don't either, but I humor them.”

“Lean in to having a life here,” Sam told her. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

She inclined her head in something that wasn't quite a nod. "Maybe I'll get a hobby.”

“Maybe the King will put you to work. He really doesn’t hate you, I swear.”

"He was the one who held the news conference with the coded message to get me here." She sighed and looked out the window. "I'm going to need so much sunscreen.”

“It’s a prescription medication here. Though all medical care is free, so it probably doesn’t matter.”

"Still, good to know. Gotta learn a new language, too.”

“They’re offering classes now, because there are so many of us.”

That earned a little smile. "You going?”

“I can mostly converse in it right now, and my assistant is also an interpreter. I have a bunch of Wakandans working for me. But yeah, I do still drop in on the classes.”

She nodded, lapsing into silence. He thought maybe the conversation was done. Then she said, quietly, "I feel very at loose ends. I can't shake it.”

“It’s a pretty common sentiment around here.” He gestured at the wall separating his office from Lani’s. “We do have a very nice psychologist in the office next door.”

"Clint only mentioned it ten times." Her mouth curved into something sly. "I hear you like her a lot.”

He laughed and shook his head. “That’s probably the understatement of the century.”

"She help you with your Steve shit?”

“Yes. She helped me with everything, really. Including things I didn’t even know I needed helping with. She’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

"I've always been skeptical of shrinks," she admitted. "Hard to play a player, you know.”

“There’s a group of women that do things together. I hear there’s a lot of talking. Lani says there’s some guerrilla therapy in there.”

"I do like girly things. And Laura will almost certainly strong arm me into going.”

“There’s something about shoe shopping. . . I don’t know. Sometimes she comes home with lingerie.” That he paid more attention to.

"We may be treading into territory I don't need to know." She got to her feet in one smooth move. "Though I should probably get some clothes.”

“You want me to tell her to marshall the troops?”

"You could drop a hint, I wouldn't protest.”

He pulled out his phone. “Done, now let me work.” He paused and looked up at her. “It’s good to see you, Nat.”

She smiled that sweet, sincere smile she had sometimes. "Thanks, Sam. You, too.”

She let herself out, and Chaniya appeared a moment later. “Did you put an early meeting on your schedule?”

“Nah, that was personal. Can you go downstairs and tell the flock I’m going to be late? I need to go talk to Lani.”

"I will pass that on and not ogle them in their tight little uniforms even a little.”

“I really didn’t need that mental image at all.”

She clicked her tongue at him but refrained from actually winking as she headed out.

*

Lani didn’t exactly have to twist Monica’s arm to set up another girls outing. As always, she fed them beforehand, this time a brunch spread beside one of the palace pools. Amanda had come again, looking far less like a wounded animal. She even laughed and joined in the conversation.

This time it was Natasha Romanov who kept herself apart, though she managed not to look awkward when doing so. And Laura knew her well enough to get a smile or comment out of her now and then.

“I got my mother to concede on the white,” Monica said while they ate. “Finally.”

"Victory," Tamara added, lifting a fist.

"Congratulations," Lani said. "You'll be wearing traditional Wakandan clothes, then?”

“Indeed I will. Though I was promised I could have lots of skirt.”

"That seems like a reasonable compromise."

"Laura had oodles of skirt," Nat commented.

“Puffy sleeves, too. It was terrifying,” Laura said. “Once when we were really drunk, I got Nat to put it on. There used to be pictures.”

"Were your bridesmaid dresses pepto-pink?" Amanda asked.

“Purple, actually.” She shook her head. “Honestly, if I had to do it again, I’d elope. Weddings are exhausting.”

“I would _love_ to have been able to elope,” Monica said. “Not all that possible with royalty.”

"It would almost certainly have caused more headaches," Lani assured her, as she had several times in the last few weeks. "It'll be a beautiful wedding.”

“And then it will be over, and T and I can relax for a little bit.”

"Oh, god don't say it out loud," Tamara said. "You'll jinx it.”

She grinned. “Well. . .It’ll only be a little while before it gets interesting again.”

Wanda had been quiet for the rest of meal, but that made her sit up and squeak a little. "Really?"

"Well now you have to tell them," Tamara said.

"I was going to," Monica said. "And I assumed Wanda already knew. She complains you think loudly."

"Which is why I've been very loudly not thinking about it."

Wrinkling her nose, Wanda asked, "Is that why you've been projecting showtunes the last week and a half?"

"Yes," Monica said for her. "And that's about the upper limit to how long Tamara can keep a secret. I am pregnant. This is how I talked my mother out of the white dress."

Laura cracked up and Wanda clapped. "Congratulations."

"We are very excited. The queen is thrilled. _Please_ do not tell anyone else. We don't want it announced publicly until after the wedding, and I'm famous enough it would be national news back in the states."

"Can we tell our significant others?" Sharon asked. "I doubt the menfolk will be running to the press."

"Yes, of course. As long as they're not gossips." She chuckled at the end, obviously knowing how silly that was.

"Bucky does tend to run on at the mouth," Amanda said dryly, to another round of chuckles.

The women peppered Monica with questions, and then the conversation drifted away. Lani watched her lean back and sip her tea. She did look much more relaxed than a few weeks ago. Most of them did, now that she thinking of it. Save for Nat, they were all making efforts to fit in and find their place in Wakanda. It was good.

She was going to be out of a job soon, if it kept up.

"Is that sort of the point?" Sam asked her that night over dinner.

"In theory, yes. No one likes to be out of a job, though." She waved her fork dramatically. "I'll end up like Steve. Drifting around, purposeless."

"Some of them have temporary issues, from the upheaval and stress. Some of them—like Steve—need a decade of therapy to untangle their shit." 

"He made an appointment," she told him. "Normally I wouldn't tell you, but I know you were one of the people encouraging him to go."

"Good," Sam said with a genuine smile. "I hope Nat does, too. She's a similar yarn ball."

"She seemed to enjoy the girl time. Though she didn't say much. I imagine she's still getting settled.”

“She’s had a rough time of it,” Sam said. “More than I think she’d admit.”

"There is a big question mark on those months she spent on the run." Lani tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "When we were working on the prison break together, I got the sense she has several layers of guilt and betrayal attached to this whole mess.”

“Well, she was originally on the other side.”

"I picked that up from conversation between her and Laura. She let Steve and Bucky get to the jet and electrocuted T’Challa."

“I heard about that part, too.”

"Guilt can be very hard to shake.”

He got himself another piece of bread to absorb the delicious sauce on his plate. “She told me once she was tired of starting over. Which I get. I’m on at least my fourth life here.”

Lani had a great deal of sympathy for that. Starting over once had rattled most of the people here. Nat had remade herself who knew how many times. "Hopefully she can find a purpose, like you and some of the others have.”

“Should talk to Sharon. She’s working with Wakandan Intelligence, and Nat is the spy to end all spies. Even if she’s famous now, there’s got to be something she can help with.”

"I may talk to Sharon about approaching her. They knew each other in SHIELD.”

Sam pointed at her. “This is something you also do that we need. Facilitate. Mediate. That kind of thing.”

"Think how different things would have been if I'd been there all along.”

“You’d have been on the RAFT with us.”

She tilted her head, not entirely sure that was true. Wasn't a debate she really wanted to get into, though. "And think of the bad press.”

He sighed. “You really think you could have stopped Steve and Tony from trying to kill each other?”

"You really have learned my tones haven't you?" She smiled and lifted a shoulder. "I'm not pretending I'm a magician. And calling me in after the fight about the accords had already begun might have been too late. But you have to agree a trained psychologist and mediator would have done both of them good.”

“Also a decade of therapy. Each.”

"Minimum," she agreed. She hoped whatever Stark was up to he was getting help. He was probably distracting himself with Colonel Rhodes recovery. Maybe someone would convince him to get his own help.

Sam seemed to sense the topic was due for a change. “So have your bought your dress for the Social Event of the Season yet?”

"I have not. Monica keeps saying she'll take us out, but she's busy. I think I may mount an expedition with some of the girls on my own. I think someone's going to need to strong arm Amanda into getting something or she'll talk herself out.”

“I meant to tall you—the King asked me if my flock would do some aerial acrobatics as entertainment during part of the festivities.”

She grinned, delighted at the mental image. "I can't wait to watch that.”

He grinned back. “Thought you might.”

"I'll get to brag to everyone that I know you.”

“I think it’s a little more than ‘know’ at this point.”

It was silly that that made her blush. "For certain definitions of know.”

He laughed. “Well. I don’t think they have the bible here in Wakanda.”

"No, not until very recently." She reached out and poured herself a little more wine. "So you'll be wearing your uniform to the wedding?”

He shrugged. “There’s a formal version, but yes.”

“Sexy."

“If you’re nice, I’ll try it on for you later.”

"I can be very nice," she assured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm editing to add a personal note here. Last year, someone I loved hurt me very bad. It was a complicated, messy, incredibly life-altering situation. Forgive, don't forgive? How much was my fault? Could we recover? What person would I be on the other side? It was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. 
> 
> While I was dealing with it, we wrote this. It's profoundly personal to me, because it helped me sort through many of those questions. If you're thinking about leaving a negative comment, please don't. It pokes a sore spot and it honestly upsets me. Nyx and I have shared dozens of stories for free, for your entertainment, for simple love of storytelling. If you would like to go over there and tell us how shitty we are, go right ahead. I'm cool. But if you've enjoyed our work at all, please do me a solid and don't post something that's going to ruin my night. Not on this story. Please.
> 
> -Olives


	11. Chapter 11

The following week, Lani found herself mounting a shopping expedition with the women who needed dresses for the royal wedding. Lila Barton tagged along, because she had insisted Laura buy her “a poofy dress”. This not being a particularly Wakandan style, that took longer than all of the other dresses combined.

"I suppose I should be grateful we're still at poofy and not slinky," Laura commented as they waited for Lila to come out of the dressing room at their fifth shop.

"I promise to take care of her slinky dress buying," Nat told her.

“I don’t think that’s going to make Clint feel any better,” she said with a laugh.

Nat grinned. "Almost certainly not.”

“Last week I told him about Monica, and you know what he says to me? ‘We should have another one’.”

"Not interested?" Amanda asked quietly.

“So far, I’ve gotten each kid out of diapers before I have the next one. If I waited for that I would be 43.” 

"Wakanda has the best pre-and-post-natal care in the world," Lani said. "It would probably be your best pregnancy.”

“Now you’re just being an enabler.”

"Clint paid her off," Nat suggested.

Lani smiled. "I like to make sure people have all the information before making a decision.”

Laura shook her head and looked over at Lani. “You gonna have some?”

Her brows arched. "I am in no way at that point in my relationship. Though I believe we are both in the pro-kid category. Eventually.”

“It was more of a general inquiry.” She turned towards the dressing room door. “Lila, are you coming out?”

"I can't get the zipper to work!" she called back, sounding a little huffy.

“Excuse me,” Laura said, and went to help her daughter.

"God help us when she goes full teenager," Nat commented, making the rest of them chuckle.

"I hope I'm out of the palace by then." Wanda agreed.

“I’m surprised no one has gone,” Nat said. “You guys have been here almost a year at this point.”

"Bucky and I are discussing it." They all turned to look at Amanda. "The palace is very busy and crowded and we both have sleeping problems. We think having our own four walls would help."

"I think many people are thinking it," Wanda said. "But it feels like a big step. Someone needs to be first.”

“I’m surprised the Bartons haven’t already gone. They both hate people.”

"They're working with the agricultural department to find a new farm," Lani said. It wasn't a secret, though she knew they weren't making a fuss about it. "They don't want to disrupt the kids too many times.”

“They invited me to come out and live with them,” Nat said. “I’ve lived with them for stretches of time before.”

“They invited me, too,” Wanda piped up. “Maybe they’re starting a commune.” 

"Are you going to go?" Lani asked them.

Nat shrugged, which was about what she expected. But Wanda surprised her by shaking her head. "I think I'm ready to try living alone. I know there'll be a room waiting for me if I can't do it. But I think it will be good for me to try."

"Autonomy is awesome," Amanda told her. "I remember the first night in my own place, realizing I could set my own rules, have my own routines. It was liberating.”

“I was part of a set. Then part of a tight-knit team. I want to figure out how to be just. . .me.” Lani and Wanda had been discussing and working on this for a quite a while. She was happy to hear her say it out loud, to others.

"I loved living alone," Amanda said. "I wish you the best of luck."

Sharon looked over at Amanda. "Have you thought about going off on your own? Without Bucky? I'm guessing you didn't have a lot of alone time with Hydra. Then you were on the run."

"Actually my cell was pretty isolated." She managed a little smile to make the phrase more of a joke. "But no. I like my time with Bucky. Though if we do venture out we'd want enough room to have our own spaces. He's never had much time alone.”

Laura came back with Lila then. “We have a winner.”

The ladies cheered and followed Laura up to pay and leave the shop. With Lila sorted out, they were done for the day and could make their way back to the palace.

*

Wakandan weddings were traditionally held at dawn. This being the King’s wedding, tradition was followed to the letter. Which meant Lani and Sam were up in the wee hours to get ready. She took longer than he did, so Sam ventured downstairs to get them some food and coffee. Breakfast had been helpfully put out at 4AM that morning.

The wedding was being held at some sort of outdoor ceremonial location that held a _lot_ of people, and guests were being transported there on a very precise schedule. “Seriously,” he called to Lani through the bathroom door while he read the schedule and munched his fruit. “We are to board our shuttle at exactly 5:06. Or else.”

"This kind of beauty takes time," she called back. But he heard some rustling and clattering and a couple minutes later the door slid open. She was dressed in a very pretty plum dress that was cut close to all her curves. Her hair was piled up on the back of her head and adorned with flowers.

“You look gorgeous,” he told her. She did.

"Worth the wait?" she teased.

“Very much. But we have five minutes and I’m afraid of Tamara and terrified of Bahati.”

"Gimme a piece of fruit and let's go.”

They boarded some sort of bus/trolley with the rest of the guest palace denizens. The sky was starting to lighten as they made their way of the grounds and out onto the roads. The roads were lined with people—there seemed to be people outside everywhere. It was the sort of crowds that would require some kind of police control back in the states, but there was none in sight.

“It’s a tradition in the towns and villages for all of the residents to come outside to celebrate a wedding,” Lani said. “With a royal marriage, I guess the whole country does.”

It was hard to see in the dim light where they were when they got off, but everyone was led in an orderly fashion into the ceremony location, which was a massive dip in the ground, and they were packing the sloping sides with people like a seatless football stadium.

They were given spots closer to the bottom, where a large platform had been built. Like. . . the field on a football stadium.

Steve and Sharon were behind them, and he leaned forward to ask. “Is this. . .a crater?”

"Legend says it's the site of a meteor hit," Lani confirmed. "The source of vibranium. Though they've dug up enough it's unlikely a meteor could have held it all.”

There were torches burning, and the light was getting better, enough to grasp the size of the crowd. “There have got to be forty thousand people in here.”

“Royalty, man,” Steve said. 

The crowd seemed to settle once it was fully filled in, and then Sam noticed the rim of the crater was ringed with a line of people, all the way around, all dressed in yellow and pink and shades of the sunrise. “Wow,” he breathed, and then the people on the rim began a chant in Wakandan.

It was beautiful, haunting. He understood perhaps every third word, but the gist seemed to be about welcoming the dawn as if each day was a new life. The chant reached a crescendo and T'Challa appeared on the platform, dressed head to toe in black with gold accents. He was joined by a woman in an elegant black gown and heavy gold jewelry. "That's the priestess of Bast," Lani whispered. 

The chorus on the rim began descending down the aisles, the chant giving way to a song. A hymn, the notes drawn out too much for him to follow. As they pooled at the bottom of the crater in a swirl of yellow, orange, pink, and purple surrounding T’Challa and the priestess, the crowd picked up the hymn, tens of thousands of voices joining the chorus. It was mesmerizing.

He felt Lani's hand curl around his and she leaned on his shoulder. The hymn reached its crescendo with one long sustained note. Then the crater was utterly silent. A lone figure appeared at the top of one of the aisles and slowly started down. 

When Monica reached the bottom, the chorus swallowed her, though you could sort of see her elaborate headdress moving through it. They were choreographed like synchronized swimmers, parting, retreating, and going down on a knee to reveal T’Challa, Monika and the priestess together in the center. “That was kind of nice,” he murmured. “Give them a moment to meet alone despite, you know, being in the middle of a stadium.”

Lani nodded. "Yeah, the vestige of privacy."

The priestess lifted her hands and welcomed them all in Wakandan. The crowd responded, and she moved on into a blessing. Sam knew enough to follow along, though he'd never attended a service so he couldn't do any of the call and response. He did lean down and translate what he could for Lani. There were more songs, and the vows themselves had a call and response from the crowd. “We welcome the family you start. We welcome the children you create. You belong to each other now.”

T'Challa clasped a necklace on Monica, and she did the same. The priestess placed a hand on each of their shoulders and bowed her head. At some signal Sam didn't see, T'Challa cupped Monica's face in his hands and kissed her.

The crowd _roared_ , so loud Lani clapped her hands over her ears and he could hear Nate Barton start to cry somewhere off to his left. He heard a sharp wolf whistle behind him and turned to see Sharon with her fingers in her mouth.

After a long moment they parted and lifted their clasped hands to even more applause.

The chorus started another chant, while they swarmed around the couple and lifted them up on something sort of like a sedan chair, and carried them up the aisle out of the crater. There was a pause after they'd disappeared, probably to give the couple time to get in their car. Then guards in flowing black tunics and gowns began to coordinate groups to leave the crater.

They were loaded back into their transport and followed the procession back to the palace, where the reception was being held outside on the grounds. Lani put her head on his shoulder again, and he looked down at her. "That was an impressive ceremony."

"It was," she agreed. "Worthy of royalty."

"I'm going to have to leave as soon as we get there," he said. "Go meet the flock and get ready. I can come find you after our show."

She nodded. "Steve and Sharon will entertain me, I'm sure."

He kissed the top of her head. "Save me a dance?"

"As many as you like," she promised.

When they got there, it looked more like a gigantic festival than any wedding reception he'd ever been too, with games and food stations scattered everywhere among the massive crowd. There were long tables somewhere up front, they'd seen them being set up on the way out. "You'll be okay?" he asked her.

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Not my first crowded event. I'll find people I know." She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Break a wing."

He bent to kiss her, and when he straightened, Steve and Sharon had appeared. "We're corralling our people," Steve said. "So we can sit together at a good table."

"He did recon," Sharon piped up. "There's a list."

Sam laughed. Of course there was, it was Steve. Steve strategized about trips to the grocery store. But he was still second to none at it. "Take Lani, she's got an in with the new queen."

"We'll take good care of her," Steve promised.

"You can use me to get at the food. The chair distracts people."

"Thanks, Steve," he said, and Steve grinned back. Sam backed into the crowd and went looking for his guys.

*

They had, in fact, staked out a table near the front, with what Lani imagined was excellent sight lines and exit routes. Amanda, Bucky, and Wanda were waiting there and waved at they approached.

"The Bartons are hitting the bathrooms," Wanda said. "Little kid bladders are no match for a royal wedding."

"I'm impressed they lasted the whole ceremony," Sharon said as she took a seat. Steve reached over and removed one of the chairs for Lani.

"Once one is in a crater I'm not sure ducking out for a pee break is an option."

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Amanda said. "Understated, but elegant. Like so much of this country."

Bucky looked over at her. "We're calling that understated? It was like a concert in a football stadium."

"The size of the crowd wasn't their fault. The ceremony itself was pretty simple."

"I think they're probably both used to that kind of crowd," Steve said.

Sharon smiled and tucked her arms through his. "I think they didn't even know we were there."

"There you guys are," Scott Lang said, pulling out one of the chairs. His hands were full of a bunch of little panther statues. "I found the favors. An old lady insisted I take a bunch for all my brothers and sisters. I can't tell if it was a language barrier thing, or she actually thinks were all siblings." He dumped them on the table. "I think they're obsidian."

Lani reached over and picked one up. "They're very pretty. Little totems."

After rooting around the pile a moment, Amanda pulled out one in mid snarl. "This one is mine."

"Kitty! Kitty!" The Bartons had returned, and Nate had seen the pile. He got very excited by the cat imagery that was everywhere in Wakanda.

Laura sat in a free chair, settling him in his lap. "You may each take _one_ ," she said, stopping Nate from diving head first on the table.

Lila rummaged through the pile, holding panthers in various poses up for her brother to decide between.

"Hey, Doc," Clint said, sinking into the empty chair between her and Laura. "I heard Sam and the others were showing off later?"

"So I've been promised."

"Have you ever actually seen them in the air?" Wanda asked. 

"I have. I've even flown with him."

"Did he take you through the acrobatics?" Steve asked, sounding amused.

"No. It was pretty much a straight line. He did jump off a building to get in the air, which was stomach lurching enough for me."

"I've been tossed around by him a time or two. I have no idea how he keeps his lunch down."

"Stomach of steel," she agreed. "I bet he rides roller coasters for fun."

There was a sound off on the other side of the crowd much like fireworks. There was a burst of color in the sky, and then she could see the Falcons shooting upwards across the sky.

Lani had never dated the most popular boy in school. She'd dabbled in theater and been sort of goth. The football team hadn't exactly been knocking down her door. Watching Sam and his team going through their moves gave her a little taste of what it must have been like. An odd little flare of pride in him and a bit of her own ego, knowing she was the one he was going home with.

They earned oohs and ahhs from the crowd, and thunderous applause when they spread out and hovered down to the ground, clearly going to where their friends and families were. Sam set down quite literally next to Lani's chair.

Their table gave him a round of applause and Lani hovered up a bit so she could kiss him.

"Hi," he murmured against her mouth.

""That was all kinds of sexy," she told him.

"You should definitely tell me more about that in detail later."

"I promise." She gave him another little peck and hovered back down to table height as he sat. The rest of them applauded again, and for some reason she found herself blushing.

"What's the deal with food? I'm starving," Sam said.

Wanda gestured in the general direction of the front tables. "I think you guys were the last hurrah before it gets served."

Sam busied himself taking his wings off, and sure enough, servers showed up with heaping plates of food. It was breakfast, so there was a lot of fruit. There was also platters of traditional fried hot cakes that were sort of like pancakes but thicker, plus some more Western dishes in honor of Monica. It was a true royal feast and for a few minutes everyone was busy serving themselves and digging in.

"I could do without the waking up at dawn," Scott said. "But this might make up for it.”

“I wake up every morning at dawn,” Laura said. “There is nothing to feed or milk, but it’s a habit I can’t break.”

"Might as well keep the habit," Clint said. "There may be things to milk and feed soon.”

“Daddy said we could get a gorilla!” Cooper piped up.

“I did not,” Clint replied. “If I did I was distracted. We got a very strange letter yesterday.”

Steve looked over. "What letter?”

“It advised me of my ownership in a shell company. Nat looked into it—It has no assets, except that it has a subsidiary, also a shell company, which has another shell company, which owns a trust. The trust owns our farm.”

There was a moment of silence while they all processed that. "So you still own your farm?" Sharon clarified.

“Apparently.”

"Well. . . that's good, right?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know what to make of it. Stark did it.”

Silence again, this time, rather tense. "Perhaps it's an olive branch?" Lani suggested. "He was the reason you got outed in the first place.”

“I remember. It was a colossally shitty thing to do.”

Lani was surprised it was Steve who said, “I think he was just at the end of his rope.”

Sharon reached up to rub his back. "He does tend to feel first and think later.”

“I’ve been at that end of the rope,” Steve said. “You get desperate, and you get thoughtlessly single minded.”

Bucky pressed a hand to his chest. "You? What? Never.”

Steve ignored that. “I’m just saying. I think he’s trying to fix what he fucked up.”

“Hey, language,” Laura said. Lani had no idea why that made Nat snort.

Clint speared a piece of fruit off the serving tray. "You think I should contact him?”

“I sent him a letter and burner phone,” Steve said. “I figured I owed him an apology.” 

"You tell us to write thank you notes when someone does something nice," Lila piped up.

Clint pointed his fork at her. "I have never told you to write a thank you note in your life." Laura glared at him over Lila's head and he gulped. "But that's a good point, thanking people is important.”

“So is apologizing,” Steve said. “And I do owe all of you an apology, too. I’ve said it individually and now I’m saying it collectively.”

The rest of them glanced at each other, as if not quite sure what to say. "We made our choices," Nat finally said. "At least, I made a choice. I don't blame you for it, but I appreciate the apology.”

He looked over at Sam. “I’ve been told I have a tendency to not look back at what damage I may leave behind me. So I’m trying.”

Lani gave Sam's hand a squeeze under the table. "It's not easy for anyone to do," she offered.

She saw Sam smile. “Easy isn’t really Steve’s speed.”

"That's right," Sharon agreed. "Why open the door when you can just break through it?"

"That was _one time_.”

There was a round of laughter, and the mood at the table lightened. The conversation got on to other topics. At one point T’Challa gave a speech, and then there was more food, and more music. A large, festival-like dance area had formed in from of where the chorus was singing, and Sam convinced her to come dance with him.

She set her chair to standing position and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You look very happy," she told him.

“I am. Beautiful wedding, I got to show off, and now I’m dancing with you.”

"That does sound like a good day." She kissed him lightly. "I feel like a lot of our little misfit band are having good days."

"We're settling in. Life is going on."

"Happily, yes." She rested her head on his shoulder, listening to his heart beat. "You make me happy."

He rested his head against hers. "I love you. Wedding seems a good time to say it."

Lani smiled, chest feeling tight and hot. "I love you, too, Sam."

He was quiet a moment, then said, "I don't think I've ever mentioned this to you, but T'Challa pays me, like, a lot of money."

She chuckled. "I already said I loved you."

He laughed. "That was a preface to ask how you'd feel about moving out of the palace."

"I feel very positive about that," she told him. "It's time people start finding their own space. And you and I might be in the best place to start the trend."

"We'll get a really nice house."

"Very nice," she agreed, aware she probably had a goofy grin on her face. But, then again so did Sam. He kissed her and she settled her head on his shoulder. For one moment, everything was right with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reconstruction will continue with Wanda and Zev's story, sometime in the near future.


End file.
